
Class, P5 351 1 
Book. -R^^DZ 
(kpighlN^. l^-p^ 



DRIFTWOOD 



DRIFTWOOD 



By DOROTHY WHIPPLE 



.f'^^ 



PRIVATELY PRINTED 

AT THE RIVERSIDE PRESS 

I916 



^^ 






COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY DOROTHY WHIPPLE 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



/ 

DEG 26 1916 



QCI. A 453287 



DEDICATED TO MY FATHER 



CONTENTS 

Driftwood 
Driftwood ...... 3 

In the Net 
In the Net . . . . . .9 

A Pearl — A Kiss . . . .13 

Unanswered 14 

Longing 15 

Good-night 16 

Sleep 18 

Dreams are best . . . .19 

The Sickle that reaps the Stars . 20 

My Soul 21 

Fate 22 

Just for To-night . . . .23 

A Rhapsody 24 

Immortal Hours 25 

Beyond ....... 27 

Hate 28 

Thou 30 

Penelope's Web 31 

vii 



CONTENTS 

The Call 32 

Their Son 33 

Hypnos -34 

Tears and Dewdrops . . . . 35 

Morning 36 

Promise . . . . . .37 

Thanks ....... 38 

Life's Facets . , . . .39 
A Gold Ring ..... 41 

Crushed Bay 42 

Meeting . .... . .43 

The Wrong Dream . . . .44 

My Other Life 45 

The Cobwebs of Convention . . 46 

Souls 47 

Silence .48 

Radiant Evening Star . . .49 

The Last Time 50 

Who Passed? 51 

Sunrise 52 

Rain and Wind . . . • • 53 
Antithesis . . . . . .54 

Time 55 

Dreams and Waking . . . .56 

viii 



Bubbles 


1 Il>iM 1 .3 




. 57 


Soul of my Soul . 




. 58 


Candle-Light 




' 59 


Plymouth Seaweed 






Plymouth Seaweed 




. 65 


Cranberries . . . , 




67 


The Farm 






70 


Haying . 






73 


Tree-felling 






76 


Selling the Lot 






78 


The Telephone , 






S2 


The Swamp . 






84 


Red-winged Blackbird . 




86 


Children and Fairies 






Fairy of the Leopard Lily 




89 


Sunlight Fairies . . * , 




91 


Star Reflections 




92 


Foxglove 




93 


Fairy Snowballs . . . . 




95 


The Sleep Fairies 




96 


The Echo Fairy . . . . 




97 


Rainbows 




98 


A Star Wedding . . . . 




99 


The Angels' Path 


. 




lOI 



IX 



CONTENTS 




Hide-and-Seek with the, Stars . 


102 


The Smelling-Salts at the Dance . 


104 


Lost . . . . . 


106 


A Lonely Alligator . . . . 


107 


Childhood 


109 


A Sail on the Moon . . . . 


1 10 


Sunbeam ...... 


112 


Fairies 


113 


Morning Mists 


114 


The Echo of a Laugh 


115 


The Lost Fairy and the Autumn Leaf 


117 


Forest Stream 


119 


A Thought 


120 


Snow 


121 


Who calls the Flowers? . 


122 


The Fast Little Clock 


123 


The Tradegy of the Umbrella . 


125 


The Lament of a Feather 


127 


If I were a Red, Red Cherry 


129 


I CANNOT UNDERSTAND . . . . 


130 


The Lost Thought . . . . 


131 


Mother's Flowers . . . . 


132 


Dream-Children 


133 


Mother-Love 

X 


134 



CONTENTS 

Fans, Fancies and Frivolities 
Why? . . ... . . . 137 

Her New Fan 139 

A Question 142 

The Mirror of a Fickle Girl . .144 

Hide and Seek 145 

The Rose on her Hat to the Rose 

ON THE Bush 146 

The Stray Lock 148 

A Letter 149 

Scandal 150 

A Pill 151 

Alone with Fancy . . . .152 

A Fancy 153 

The Birth of Venus . . . .154 
A Fancy 155 

Gardens and Flowers 
Her Garden — My Garden . .159 
Lily of the Valley . . . .161 

The Lotus 162 

Canterbury Bells . . . .163 
White Lily ...... 164 

A Garden 165 

Heliotrope . . . , , .166 

xi 



CONTENTS 

Where Lilies grow . . . .167 

Forgotten 169 

I KNOW 170 

A Violet 171 

A Path 172 

The Brook 173 

Tansy and Chicory . . . .174 
Crimson Roses . . . . .175 

Songs and Seasons 

Song 179 

You 180 

Song 181 

A Song 182 

Her Heart 183 

A Mystery 184 

Sailing 185 

Spring and Fall 

Spring 189 

Spring Ecstacy . . . • . 191 

Spring Promise 192 

A Bird's Call ..... 193 
The Spring Moon . . . .194 

A Spring Song 195 

Blue Sky overhead . . . .196 
xii 



CONTENTS 

The Bluebird's Song . . . .197 
Fall Flames . . . . .198 

Fall Sky 199 

A Leaf — A Love .... 200 

Change 202 

A Dream of the Fall . . . 203 

Autumn Contradictions . . .204 

Religiosa 

In the Night 207 

Resignation 208 

God knows 209 

Melrose Abbey 210 

Where now stands Trinity . .211 
The Golden Cross . . . .214 

Solace 215 

Shadows of Gold . . . .216 

Sonnet 217 

In Memoriam 218 

An Angel 219 

Crucifixion 220 

A Prayer 221 

Portrayals 

A Portrait 225 

A Girl 226 

xiii 



CONTENTS 

The Teamster . . . , . 229 

The Miner 231 

A Romance of the Circus „ . 233 

Reminiscence . . . . . 239 

Possession 243 

Eons Ago 245 

Vers Libre 

To 251 

A Fancy 253 

Parting 255 

Magnolia Blossoms .... 256 
Clouds across the Moon . . . 257 
Marriage . . *. . . . 259 

Pot au Feu 261 

A Rhapsody 265 

L'Envoi 

Heart Songs 269 



DRIFTWOOD 



DRIFTWOOD 

It was night, 

A night that God had planned before the world 

began. 
The moon glimmered in a gold surprise 
Over a wine-spilled sea. A creature of to-day 
In all the words he knows could not express 
What the moon saw, and the moon will not speak 

of this night. 
There was one soul on the shore beside the wave- 
crested sea; 
I think it was mine own, but the wind could not 

tell me; 
Or perhaps it was that I could not understand 

that night. 
Far out on the swaying murmurous moontide, 
I saw mermaids frolicking with the foam in 

ecstatic gracefulness: 
Their hair glinted in the velvet moonlight 
And spread a golden vein into the wine luster of 

the sea. 
There were fairies catching the star-pierced 

spray 

3 



DRIFTWOOD 

Of the breaking waves. 

I heard a child's voice, I think she woke from her 

sleep 
And knew that this night was not like others. 
Children always know such things : 
It is because they have come so lately from God 
Who holds the silver cords of the plasmatic 

world. 
There was no voice in me. 
The sea spoke, but I could not answer it, 
Or understand the words it trampled out. 
Then morning came out of the sea. 
One of the mermaids gleaned the exquisite pink 
Of the conch-shell and threw it to the skies; 
My soul saluted the dawn : 
The morning star shivered and glided 
Behind the curtain of a pearl mist. 
Then I awoke, and as one in a dream 
Walked forth from under the wings of that 

night 
Which was left over in the oil of centuries. 
There was driftwood on the beach ; 
There was the echo of a child's laugh in a shell; 
And there were fairies held prisoners 
Under the foam-bubbles on the silvered sand. 
4 



DRIFTWOOD 

There must be a beautiful garden under the 

green sea, 
Because I found blossoms of spring and summer 

flowers 
Of all shades, and the fragrant flowers 
That come in the honeyed autumnal days. 
My soul will never forget that night 
And the things it found in the morning 
On the lovely long beach. 
It talks about those things to me in strange 

echoes now. 
I have saved some of the driftwood ; 
Some day I will burn it all, see 
The blue flame, and hear the echo 
Of the murmurous sea-thunder. 



IN THE NET 



IN THE NET 

A LONE fisherman 

Out on the great expanse of the lapis-Iazuli sea. 

With the millions of glinting gold sunbeams 

That ride the ecstatic wavelets, 

His white boat rises and falls on the water 

Like a recurrent thought, — 

Now lost in the vast blueness, now dazzlingly 

visible, 
Like a speck of foam. 

There is something flying through the radiance 

of the morning air; 
It is not a gull. 

The gulls gaze on it with lazy surprise; 
It has wings and it is my soul. 
It must reach the lone fisherman before his net 

is drawn. 
Now he is reaching over the side of the white 

foam boat, 
And it tips to meet the blue 
Till the dull brown floor and sides are visible. 
With the ropes and pails and shining fish-scales. 
9 



IN THE NET 

And the lone fisherman is pulling his heavy net 

over the side. 
There is a glinting mass of animation through 

the meshes of the net, 
And the slippery sound of captured fish 
As they lash their bodies about 
Swimming in the foreign air. 
There are many fish in the net, but there is more 

beside 
From the wonderful ocean-green depths beyond 

the silence of the sea song. 
There is a conch-shell with elusive pink tints : 
One would follow that shade to the heart were 

it possible. 
The wind is singing beautifully of the mysteries 

of the sky, 
And the sunbeams are playing on the harp of the 

air. 
In the conch-shells are the echoes of songs — 
Beauteous strains vaguely inexpressible. 
There are rainbow bubbles all about. 
The occasional flip of a fish breaks one now and 

then, 
And the rainbow streams lavishly over his shining 

scales. 

lO 



IN THE NET 

Then another foam-bubble appears. 

And the rainbow flows together and becomes a 
drop of water. 

It looks like a beautiful tear from the depths of 
despair, 

Where it is purple and dark with suffering. 

Tears are like snowdrops 

Bleeding out of the ground. 

A sea-anemone was caught in the net. 

It had a lost dream in its chalice. 

Some one out at sea forgot a dream. 

It fell into the ocean and lay 

In the anemone's beautiful cup. 

There was a flash of gold amid the silvered fish- 
scales. 

The meshes of the net were lying on it heavily, 

And a starfish clung to one end. 

Could it be that the fisherman had caught the 
crescent moon? 

It was its reflection. 

There was a night when the sea was idly calm 

And the moon threw its reflection down. 

The moon's reflection is its love; 

And a beautiful pink starfish 

Caught the crescent moon's love and held it fast. 



IN THE NET 

The fisherman caught them both. 

The silent tide is creeping in; 

The fisherman must get home. 

He empties all but the fish into the dizzy sea 

again. 
There is only an occasional flash and flicker of 

sunbright scales ; 
Most of the fish are dry and sticky. 
My soul saw all that came up from the sea's 

depth 
In the fisherman's coarse brown net. 
It has left the boat now, 
And the gulls float in the vast blueness, 
And they see my soul passing again. 
It is coming to me and I shall know all. 



A PEARL — A KISS 

A STAR fell into the depths of the sea — 
A star of golden mystery; 
And the rainbow flight of the ocean spray 
Mingled and made it a pearl where it lay. 

A thought fell into the depths of a heart, 
And felt its quivering pulses start; 
The rainbow dreams that arise from our bliss 
Touched it — and it became a kiss. 



13 



UNANSWERED 

Why is It wrong to long for death? 

She stands gazing at the sun-bright water 

Asking the breeze, 

Asking the trees, 

Why is it wrong to long for death? 

The waters are beating against the sand; 

With the same insistent beat, pain throbbed 

'gainst her heart 
Until it saw the life-blood oozing start, 
Until it left her hopeless on the strand. 

There is no need to flaunt her suffering — 

I think that words would fail. Let those who 

know 
Life, those who understood it long ago. 
Realize that sacred silence which bespeaketh all. 

Why Is It wrong to long for death? 
She stands gazing at the deep gray waters, 
Asking the wind, 
Asking her mind, 

Why is it wrong to long for death? 
14 



LONGING 

There is a longing in my soul 

For rainbow things 

Far, far away. 

There is a rustle on the breeze 

Of fairy wings 

Far, far away. 

Gently my life-pulse beats into the night; 
Slowly my sleep-soul rises to the light; 
Gold of the moonbeams shimmering o'er the lea, 
Heart of my heart, I am calling thee. 

There is a longing in my soul 
For mystic things 
Far, far away. 

There is a distant echoing voice 
That murmuring sings 
Far, far away. 

My love is throbbing like the evening star, 
Caught in the purple haze of night afar; 
Foam-crested waves are breaking near the sea; 
Heart of my heart, I am calling thee. 
15 



GOOD-NIGHT 

Good-night, dear one, good-night. 
The lily hath let her petals white 
Close to the murmur of the night, 
Lulled by a faint star-distant beam, 
The spirit of a beautiful dream. 
Good-night, dear one, good-night. 

Good-night, dear one, good-night. 

The breeze is whispering to the moon, 

The harp of night is all in tune, 

And over the sea where the mermaids glide 

A path of gold sways with the tide. 

Good-night, dear one, good-night. 

Good-night, dear one, good-night. 
The moon is drawing the sighing sea; 
My love, thy heart is drawing me, 
And the flowers droop in the ambient air 
To breathe on the silver moonbeams there. 
Good-night, dear one, good-night. 

Good-night, dear one, good-night. 
The promise-star in the deep blue sky 
i6 



GOOD-NIGHT 

Hath gleamed — we shall meet again, 

thou and I, 
And I shall know thy smile of light 
In the lovely land of a fond good-night. 
Good-night, dear one, good-night. 



SLEEP 

Beautiful over the sunlit sea, 
Dreamy over the hyacinth lea, 
Drowsy tops of the swaying tree — 
Sleep — O sleep, thou art come to me. 

Far in a land of dream-desires. 
Of rainbow bubbles and fa.iry spires, 
Where lilies are growing in clouds of white, 
And breathing fragrance to the stars' light; 

Deep in the realm of the evening star, 
Where translucent spirits of mystery are; 
Sleep, thou hast taken me far away 
From the life I live in the sparkling day. 

Beautiful over the morning sea. 

Lovely the jasamine skies to me; 

The crocus dawn is warm with light 

From the shimmering moonbeams of the night. 



i8 



DREAMS ARE BEST 

It is so fair to dream life, 

Dream till reality 

Becomes a mist that trembles 

Over a seething sea; 

To lay down the cross we 're bearing, 

Just for a little while, 

And after the tears of suffering 

Feel the warm sun of a smile. 

It is so fair to dream love. 
Nor put it to life's acid test; 
Its anguish consumes the heart so. 
Oh, dreams are the very best. 



19 



THE SICKLE THAT REAPS THE 
STARS 

Out of the tow'ring cave of night 
Where the dreams of mortals are, 
A radiant youth of spirit light 
Came forth and journeyed afar. 

Gold as the rays of the setting sun, 
Shone the moon-sickle in his hand, 
To reap the trembling evening stars 
That sparkle like silver sand. 

Gladly he reaped in the purple field. 
Gathering star by star; 
The gold moon-sickle grew fainter — till 
*Twas lost in the distance far. 



20 



MY SOUL 

My soul IS wandering far away 
Into the crocus of waning day, 
Into the distant amethyst 
Of the ever-drooping, fading mist. 

I watch it shimmering o'er the sea 
Like a trembling breath of eternity; 
I see it on a sunbeam far 
Melt into the evening star. 

It glimmers like a firefly 

Into the purple of the sky. 

The moaning sea to the foam-white beach 

Answers its echo's utmost reach. 

And my soul is palpitating still 
With the pulse of the star over the hill. 
Where will it be when that golden star 
Shall fade in the light of the morning far? 



21 



FATE 

Fate with a trembling hand wrote this — 

A line of suffering, a line of bliss, 

And life glides on in a mist of tears 

Or a rainbow of hope that hides our fears. 

But the lines that were written by fate shall be 

Realized for all eternity. 



22 



JUST FOR TO-NIGHT 

Just for to-night, dear, come unto me; 
Forget all the pains and sorrows that be; 
Just for to-night, dear, take thou my hand — 
Let us live life as our two hearts had planned. 

Just for to-night, dear, take me and say 
You love me and you will love me alway; 
Just for to-night, dear, kiss me again, 
The kiss that I dreamed would never be pain.. 



23 



A RHAPSODY 

Blue sky, green fields and fleecy clouds of 

white! 
Their strange shaped shadows glide like dreams 

of night 
Over the silent fields of swaying grain, 
Great visions of the spirit of the plain. 
Under the leafy trees in cool deep glades 
Soft, golden sunlight slowly gleams and fades. 
White phantom visions flit before the eyes 
And vanish in the distance of the skies. 
Rippling, splashing water on the golden sand, 
A gently stirring sound, — perhaps Titania's 

band. 
And all the dryads of the woodland trees 
In rainbow circles flit upon the breeze. 
Dryads robed in purple like the iris light, 
Opalescent fairies, spirits of dusky night. 
Fairies, fairies, fairies soaring to the skies. 
Let us wait a little longer till the moon shall rise. 
Then the rainbow fairies, combing all the light. 
Shall shimmer through the darkness into stars of 

night. 

24 



IMMORTAL HOURS 

Hours long I stop and listen 
To the singing harp of time; 
And I hear soft, distant echoes 
Harking from another clime. 

Echoes of the past are trembling 
In music through the halls of life; 
Angel hands that bear loved memories 
Charm away all sordid strife. 

As the primrose sky of evening 
Fades into the purple night, 
So those memories, softly blending, 
Mingle in my heart's delight. 

Memories of such perfect hours 
Pass like moonbeams o'er the sea; 
Hours of reading and communing, 
Soul to soul, upon the lea. 

Hours that e'er shall be immortal, 
Ensouled in rainbow memories ; 
25 



IMMORTAL HOURS 

Life may take our fond desires, 
Turn our joys to tragedies. 

But, like petals of a flower, 
Velvet soft and misty light, 
Memories of such bliss shall linger 
Breathing fragrance through death's night. 



BEYOND 

Always a mystic distance luring us on through 

Hfe; 
Always a fear immortal after the storm of strife ; 
Always a vision rising over accomplishment's 

peak; 
Always intangible glories for which we may ever 

seek. 

And watch, vanishing, vanishing, like gulls over 

the sea; 
And our eyes dwell on that distance, fancying 

what might be. 
And then comes the end of life, and still the great 

to be. 
Something forever beyond our grasp, the last is 

eternity. 



27 



HATE 

When the first flush of rosy light 
Gleamed through the curtain of the night, 
And all the flowers of the morn 
Gazed in the mirror of the dawn, 

A gentle breeze came o'er the lea, 
Over the purple jasmine sea, 
Searching a flower to love and woo, 
As the light breeze of morning joys to do. 

A lily trembled and opened her heart, 
Pure as the golden sunbeam-dart; 
The wandering breeze caressed her all day 
Till evening came on her starry way. 

And the lily closed her petals white 

To dream of the breeze and day's delight; 

Under the mystic stars she lay, 

Like a pure thought when the heart would pray. 

And in this world where life is so strange 
All are flower-weak and all things change; 

28 



HATE 

Love in a night is turned to hate; 

We would enter heaven, but find it too late. 

The evening breeze and the lily white 
Changed in the span of a mortal night : 
She heard him roar and sigh and groan 
And shriek in a moaning undertone. 

A wind of hate is a wind that kills, 

And breaks the substance of our wills. 

Next morning the blossom had drooped her 

head, — 
A flower was found in the garden, dead. 



THOU 

Star distant all my hopes and all my fears, 
Silent as death the life-blood of my heart 
Flows in a purple stream. Pain cannot start 
The wild sad thrill it used in other years, 
Nay, nor the bitter bleeding, blinding tears. 
Oh joy, a hazy memory thou art. 
Tinged faintly with gleams that could once 

impart 
Such raptures ! Dreamy aurora enspheres 
My being in a golden mesh of light. 
Pain, longing, sorrow, and a dear delight 
Are mingled like the breath of a pearl mist, 
Faintly they touch the senseless cheek, insist, 
Like beating rain, till, my beloved, pain 
Withdraws her hand and thou art near again. 



30 



PENELOPE'S WEB 

Dearest, I cannot say good-bye to thee. 
The pallid moon may urge the stars to shine, 
But, O beloved, lay thy hand on mine. 
And all the trembling flame of love leaps free. 
Consumes my throbbing heart, and thus leaves 

me 
Helpless in thy sight. I lift my eyes to thine 
And see the image of a life divine. 
Lived close to God in beauty still to be. 
Ah no, I cannot say good-bye, dear heart. 
The words are vain, and yet I love to part, 
For all the sweetness of farewell — • I say. 
Good-bye, and with the first breath of to-day 
Undo those silver words, as she who spun 
All day till night and then unravelled all she'd 

done. 



31 



THE CALL 

The sunbeams are glimmering through the trees, 

The flowers sway in the evening breeze. 

Why do you hasten on, little brook? 

Laughing waters, why leave this nook 

Where the sand is soft and gold 

And the wild-rose petals fold? 

Why hasten on to the hungry sea? 

Is this happiness not enough for thee, 

With all this beauteous solitude, 

The water-lily diamond-dewed? 

The sea is calling for the brook 

For the echoes of its quiet nook, 

Rippling, laughing brook so free * 

Why be lost in that boundless sea? 



32 



THEIR SON 

The yellow sunlight flickered through the trees; 
Slowly the fluttering leaves, gold and red, 
Fell through the silent air from overhead 
Upon the twilight of two lives. The evening 

breeze 
Mingled its whispers with the drone of bees. 
Beyond their tear-dimmed vision, far ahead, 
Lay purple hills with misty light o'erspread; 
Their vision rested upon each of these. 
Silent they stood, those two, gazing far away 
At that lone figure going out to meet the day 
Beyond the hills, leaving the autumn leaves to 

fall. 
Like the hopes of their hearts and taking all. 
All but a dream of what had ceased to be, 
Tinged with a longing, aching misery. 



33 



HYPNOS 

Fair Hypnos of the peaceful, dreamy brows, 
Who weary mortals mystic rest allows, 
Come to me now and lay thy cool, soft hand 
Over my weary eyes. Unloose each band 
Of pain's relentless woe that all the day 
Like coiling serpents strangles peace away. 
As falls the sunlight on the purple hills, 
So falls thy comfort on the wayward wills 
Of men. O'er seething seas a dream of night 
Is melting into soft radiant light. 
The evening star will gently draw it soon, 
Out of the shimmering bosom of the moon, 
And I shall dream of fountains in the sun. 
Of summer sunsets when the day is done, 
Of cloud-flecked skies whose shadows on the 

grass 
Glide by the golden sunbeams and pass 
On to the hills, and then far, far away 
To wait the dawn of coming day. 



34 



TEARS AND DEWDROPS 

The evening breeze wafts o'er the sea, 
Breathing its fragrance and sweetness to me, 
And it faints in the flush of the sunset sky 
While the languorous gulls are soaring by. 

The breath of my pain is drifting too 
Somewhere afar in God's heaven of blue. 
The morning wind is fresh and clear 
It misses a dewdrop and finds a tear. 



35 



MORNING 

Into the mists of sunshine, 
Into the violet sky, 
The morning star is waning 
And our dreams are floating by. 

Out of the mists of morning, 
Out of the rainbow dew, 
The radiant day is dawning 
And morn is coming anew. 

Out of the dreams and visions, 
Out of the purple night. 
The spirit of mortal is stirring 
And reveling in the light. 



36 



PROMISE 

The lilies are lulled to sleep by the wind, 
And the glamorous world is left behind 
As the golden sheen of meteor light, 
When a star falls into the unknown night. 

The lilies are breathing soft and low, 

And their perfume sleeps in the breezes that blow, 

And over the purple hills far away 

God is pouring life into the day. 

With promise of undreamed things to be, 
Moments of pain and ecstasy, 
We never know till the day is o'er 
The mystery God hath planned before. 



37 



THANKS 

Dear friend, you sang for her one perfect 

night, 
The halo of thy voice wreathed round her heart 
And quivered there till it became a part 
Of life to her at best. Her rare delight 
Was pictured in her eyes from the soul's insight. 
It is not strange that longing tears should start 
And tremble in the recess of the heart 
On hearing those sweet strains again. To-night 
I thought I felt her presence lingering near, 
A spirit by thy music bidden, here. 
She heard; perhaps not as she heard before. 
But with us still and loving even more. 
How vain a word of thanks must seem to thee ; 
Yet thou knowest how deep our thanks must be. 



38 



LIFE'S FACETS 

'T IS a world of childish bliss, 
Of care-free days and happiness; 
What could fairer be than this? 
When hearts are young. 

'T is a world of dawning dreams, 
With its rainbow pain-tinged gleams, 
And love's tender trembling beams 
Of our youth. 

'T is a world of love and light, 
Thrilling heart-throbs of delight; 
Of a new and deep insight 
Into life. 

'T is a world of tender pain. 
When we feel all strife is vain; 
There 's a face we '11 see again 
Never more. 

'T is a world of sacrifice 
In which perfect pardon lies, 
39 



LIFE'S FACETS 

With a glimpse of Paradise 
Far away. 

'T is a world of resignation, 
Of long hours of contemplation, 
With a dawn of God's relation 
After life. 

'T is a world beyond our sight, 
Beyond death's grief-darkened night; 
And we wait on God for light 
In this world. 

'T is a world of blinding grief, 
When the heart knows no relief; 
Only prayer and firm belief 
Shall avail. 



A GOLD RING 

Just a gold ring — the moon's mysterious light 
Hath played with in the forest heart some night 
And made a gold ring: — it has no ending, 
Nor beginning, just a mystic blending. 

Just a gold ring — hovering round I see 
The misty dream of all life held for me 
The day, 't was not so very long ago, 
It clasped my finger. God, I loved it so! 

That dear gold ring — there Is a vision now 
Of days that passed like music faint and low; 
I never knew but faintly guessed 
They were too subtly sublime to bear life's test. 



41 



CRUSHED BAY 

I CRUSHED some bay-leaves with a thoughtless 

hand ; 
So is it that pain crushes — you understand ; 
And yet we love the fragrance of crushed bay 
And love the visions of a by-gone day. 



42 



MEETING 

I MET myself the other day, 
As I walked through the sunlit fields 
Where the shadows of clouds float slowly by 
And the clover her fragrance yields. 

I walked through the swaying grasses 
That rippled and bent in the breeze; 
I listened to lisping leaflets 
That rustled in bird-haunted trees. 

And there in the scented meadow, 
Where daisies and red grass grow, 
I met myself in the sunshine 
And I spoke to myself soft and low. 

I asked myself many a question, 
But the answers I '11 never tell. 
It is so strange to meet one's self — 
But you 've done it, I know full well. 



43 



THE WRONG DREAM 

Once through a gold-beamed twilight, 
Over a murmurous sea, 
The dream of some other mortal 
Wafted out to me. 

I saw in the faint, far distance. 
Through a mist of opal light. 
Something trembling and quivering 
And growing forever more bright. 

I dreamed that the moon was shining 
Over a purple plain, 
And someone was faintly calling, 
Calling, calling in vain. 

I would the other mortal 

Had dreamed that dream last night. 

And answered the voice on the purple plain 

Under the moon's soft light. 

Even the angels of dreamland 
Once in an aeon or so 
Touch to life the wrong vision, 
But few of us mortals know. 
44 



MY OTHER LIFE 

When the fire flame is flickering 
And the wind is sighing low, 
Visions come and angel voices 
Whisper of a long ago. 

Strange the vision that arises 
Of another life than mine, 
Other hopes and other longings: 
What was then this life of thine? 

Were we both strange different beings 
Foreign in each other's eyes? 
No, for I have felt thee near me 
In these visions that arise. 

What a world of whims and fancies! 
In the valley of the moon 
Long ago I think I wandered 
And the height of night was noon. 

Far away the star of evening 
Glimmered, and I loved to see 
All its perfect light a-quiver, 
Dear heart, for I knew 't was thee. 
45 



THE COBWEBS OF CONVENTION 

So let us strive to realize our intention 
And sweep away the cobwebs of convention, 
Those silver threads of life that hold us here 
When all the while we feel our ideal near, 
Breathing, a new soul clamoring for birth, 
A flower, held by winter in the earth. 
Let us stretch forth the trembling arm of hope 
And, soaring, feel the hands that used to grope, 
Touch a new chord whose echoes vibrant fill 
The super-soul and tremble there until 
The vision shall be realized. Then shall start 
A fresh new life with beauty at its heart. 



SOULS 

There are two souls in me that greet the day 
One here, the other star-distant away, 
Over the massive hills of night, where sleep 
And all the mysteries of visions keep 
Their drowsy vigil. The other soul is near, 
Crowned with a fragile wreath of fear, 
And all its whiteness lies in silent peace, 
Watching the fleet shadows of life increase. 



47 



SILENCE 

What if for one brief moment my wild heart 
Were still, and all the dreams of thee that are 
So close to it should drift away afar 
Like white mists drawn by breath of dawn apart. 

The very pulse within me would be still, 
I would be dead, and all my love for thee 
A flower more for God's eternity, 
A world and a heart in silence at his will. 

What if for one strange moment all the world 
Were silent still as the depths of night. 
Deprived of breath, still as a golden shaft of 

light. 
Still as the white rose petals all unfurled. 

The busy city would stand still a time. 

The brook would cease to flow, the breeze to sigh, 

Fair leaves to whisper as it passes by. 

All lost in silence of a great sublime. 



48 



RADIANT EVENING STAR 

The sun of our life arises 

Behind the white mists of time, 

In the deHcate opal colors 

Tinged with our dreams divine. 

And the mists of time float onward 

Down to death's deep sea, 

Till they vanish in mystic distance — 

We call it eternity. 

For one last perfect moment 

The sunset of life is aglow; 

Slowly the soft shades mingle 

And the winds of Elysium blow. 

Ah, bright and radiant evening star, 

Thy concentrated light 

Is the soul of life's fair sunset 

Gathered through death's dark night. 



49 



THE LAST TIME 

Were this the last time I could see thee, dear, 
Were my dreams gathered like mist clouds o'er 

the sea 
In pallid whiteness, floating far from me! 
Though all my hopes were echoed in a tear, 
Still, dearest one, to feel thy presence near 
Even for one brief moment — that would be 
Joy, rare enough for all eternity, 
And I would then forget all else I fear — 
Forget the aching pain of loneliness, 
Forget the silent hours when I stand 
In anguish, reaching out my trembling hand, 
Longing, O dear one, for thy loved caress. 
The lily forgets all but the pure gleam 
Of tender light from a loved moonbeam. 



50 



WHO PASSED? 

I WONDER who passed here just after the snow fell. 
It's a long, long way from home 
In the silence, and I cannot tell 
Who passed. 

Perhaps a wanderer seeking light — 
It's a lonely place to spend the night; 
Perhaps a hunter tracking the deer 
And yet there are no other tracks near. 
No, it was none of these that passed 
And faced the ice and the snowy blast. 
The tracks are not deep in the drifted snow; 
Perhaps a spirit, but where did it go? 
On, on and on through the purple night, 
Over fields of flake snow banked so white. 
Perhaps I only dreamed I saw tracks, how 
Strange and yet, I see them even now. 

I wonder who did pass here just after the snow fell. 
It's a long, long way from home 
In the silence, and I cannot tell 
Who passed. 

51 



SUNRISE 

The dusky night on quiet wings upborne 

Hath flown far away; 

The morning star that ushers in the dawn 

Is budding into day. 

Far off the first warm petals are unfurled, 

And wait but the kiss 

Of the dawn sprite, Elysian; dew-impearled, 

To blossom into this, 

This radiant splendor of the rising sun, 

This promise of a star. 

This moment of communion with the skies 

And regions still afar. 



RAIN AND WIND 

There are secrets in the whisper of the rain. 
There is music in a tender, minor strain, 
Echoes from the heart that throbs in pain 
For all that ne'er will come in life again. 
Ah, the whisper of the soft melodious rain. 

There are secrets in the moaning of the wind, 
Soul visions that our heart hath left behind, 
With the music of loved voices, low and kind, 
And a memory in the recess of the mind. 
Oh, the secrets of the moaning, sighing wind. 



53 



ANTITHESIS 

The poem of the evening star 
To the song of the purple night; 
The blending of dreams and thoughts 
With the ecstasy of delight. 

The delicate thrill of joy 
To the tender music of pain; 
The reflected ray of light 
In a trembling drop of rain. 

The tumult of life and love 

To the dream of its quiet hours; 

The delicate beauty of life 

To its virile and perfect powers. 

The poem of a longing heart 
To the echo from far away; 
The dream of suffering night, 
And love is born with the day. 



54 



TIME 

Time held her hands together long ago, 
And day by day with dreamy eyes watched pass, 
Slowly like shimmering stars, life's grains of sand 
That fell unseen upon the verdant grass. 

But now her lily fingers draw apart; 
Still she is standing with dreamy eyes, 
And all the golden sand like shafts of light 
Slips through and lies in suffered tragedies. 

This is the end. And yet she stands there still,. 
A golden heap of life existent near, 
And all around new grains of sand fall through — 
But mine is now a heap and sere. 



55 



DREAMS AND WAKING 

What is a dream? 

A breath from the petals of a flower, 
A perfect moment of one glad hour, 
The rainbow after a summer shower. 
The kiss of mysterious night. 

What is awakening? 
A dreaming sense of what has been, 
Of voices heard, loved faces seenr 
A butterfly moment poised between 
Mystery and reality. 



56 



BUBBLES 

You say that the heart forgets, dear, 
Forgets the joy and the pain; 
Stands waiting, an empty bubble, 
Till life shall tinge it again. 

There are bubbles that float in the air, dear, 

Reflecting the sunset shades; 

There are bubbles that soar to heaven 

In color that swirls and fades. 

There are bubbles that fall to earth, dear, 
And are lost in a sea of dreams; 
There are bubbles that tremble e'er melting 
Into pain's deep purple gleams. 

The heart does not forget, dear, 
Though frail as a bubble it be; 
The heart can never forget, dear, 
Till utmost eternity. 



57 



SOUL OF MY SOUL 

Soul of my soul, — life of my life, — 
I come to thee over the hills of chance, 
Out of the mists of circumstance; 
Peace in my heart from all the strife. 

Soul of my soul, — heart of my very heart, — 
I heard thy voice throughout the silent night 
Long, long ago, and saw thy soul light 
And mine own become a part. 

Soul of my soul, — breath of my very breath, - 
Our lives have drawn together as the night 
Melts into the mystery of daylight 
We love, and see thus mingling life and death. 



58 



CANDLE-LIGHT 

In the candle-light of life, 
When the sun is set, 
Come the shadows of the past 
We tried to forget. 

Great dark shadows like the clouds 
That used to bank the sky, 
But always leave the sunshine 
When they had passed by. 



59 



PLYMOUTH SEAWEED 



PLYMOUTH SEAWEED 

There was a long shore, 

And the silver sand sparkled in the moonlight, 

And the proud crested waves 

Rose and crashed, groveling on the glinting 
sand, 

And the white foam scintillated under the silent 
moonbeams 

Beneath the sea. — Under the long golden 
smile of the moon 

The spirits of the deep played in swaying grace- 
fulness. 

There were long-haired mermaids 

Who tore the green brown seaweed from the rocks 

And flung it to the golden moon-ripples. 

There were fishes with huge eyes and little 
mouths 

Darting about in the green gold waters — 

Old fishes with long fins and sunken gills; 

They sat in the shadows 

And told all they knew. 

They told of the first boat 

That came years and years ago to these waters; 
63 



PLYMOUTH SEAWEED 

How it stayed only a short while and went away 

Leaving the pilgrims behind. 

The fishes have never seen just such a boat since. 

Many other boats have been in the harbor, 

Bringing many pilgrims, 

But the fishes remember the first one best. 

The old fishes remember what the gulls have told 
them. 

The gulls float over the land, 

And their round, bright eyes see many things; 

Then they soar back again. 

With long, lazy wings that touch the waters. 

That is the way they talk to the folk of the sea 

Of all the mysteries of the land each year. 

The gulls have told the old fishes of the life there, 

Of the struggle for existence, 

Of the flight of some. 

And of the ones who have stayed there long years, 

Of their loves, tragedies, joys and sorrows, 

Of their winters and summers. 

The old fishes know a great deal, 

And they love to tell it 

As they glide back and forth in the long caress- 
ing seaweed 

That slips by their glistening scaly sides. 
64 



PLYMOUTH SEAWEED 

And still the graceful long-haired mermaids 
Tear the gold green seaweed 
And fling it to the smile of the moon. 
In the morning a young man 
With an echo of the moon's smile on his lips. 
And dark brown eyes, 
Comes and gathers the seaweed, 
His old horse stands on the beach, 
Switching his tail at the flies 
That the sea breezes do not blow off, — 
Switching it perhaps from force of habit. 
He is like some of the people the gulls tell about. 
They have done strange things for years, 
And still do them and their children do them too 
in the same way. 

It is a beautiful sun-clear morning, 

The wind is fresh and the sky is bright blue; 

The man has gathered the seaweed, nor 

Does he know of the beautiful mermaids who 

plucked it. 
And of the seon-old fishes of the deep. 
He is carrying it home now 
Along the little sandy road 
With dusty grasses and wild roses bordering it; 
65 



PLYMOUTH SEAWEED 

And then through the fields with daisies and 

clovers, 
Just before he reaches his home, — 
The little white house with green blinds 
Under the shadows of the foothills, 
The farmers know that seaweed 
Is good for the grass. 



CRANBERRIES 

The pitch-pines are gnarled and sturdy; 

Glimpses of forget-me-not blue sky- 
Gleam through the tracery of their needles. 

The oaks that grow among them 

Are a wonderful purple brown, in the fall 

When the nights are dew-cool, 

And there is a mysterious white mist in the little 
dells. 

The flying fairies are held prisoners in the am- 
bient mist 

And you can hear their wings rustling all about. 

The sun rises in gold and purple, 

And the cranberry bogs are bright almost as 
though 

They had caught fire from the coming light; 

The slender little vines creep over the white 
sand, 

Each leaf purpling to the sunrise. 

There is a great gray hawk soaring over the bog, 

Marring the fleckless blue of the noon sky; 

The streams that cut the bogs in squares 

Are full of frogs and little fish 
67 



CRANBERRIES 

That dart on the yellow sand 

And make little slivers of animated shadows. 

The water is bright and cool; it ripples so im- 
portantly ; 

It is always trying to leap up the vine-covered 
bank, 

But it slips gleamingly back again 

Until the brook is dammed to flood the bog; 

Then it creeps in silver gloatingly through the 
vines, 

To drown the pests or keep frost away. 

No wonder the little brook ripples so import- 
antly 

Over its motley pebbles and silvered sands. 

The cranberry bogs are beautiful in the morn- 
ing; 

All the fairies that were caught in the haze 

Become tears in the morning; 

If they do not fall into sad hearts. 

They glisten in sparkling happiness 

On the cranberry vines, and they are full of color 
and light. 

Fairies are always beautiful and happy 

Whatever form they take. 

It will soon be time to pick the hard red berries 
68 



CRANBERRIES 

And the pickers with their dark skins 

And bright fantastic clothes , 

Look as though they might be some fairy pirates 

Searching for a buried treasure. 

And the sky smiles a blueness down upon the 

Bright pink and flaming red and the Tyrian 
purple 

And upon the white barrels 

Filled with the luscious crimson of the cran- 
berries. 



THE FARM 
I 

Behind the house is the meadow, 
And beyond the meadow where clovers grow, 
And flaming poppies 'mid daisies like the snow, 
Serpenting through the grasses is the silver lake 
With sunlight on it and trees that shake 
Their leaves on to its surface; they float 
Each with a fairy in the petalled boat 
Over the golden gleams of shadowed sand 
On to the great unknown fairy-land. 
Beyond the river is another field. 
I never went to it, but the waters say 
There are daisies there too, and poppies gay; 
That the bluebird floats and alights to see 
If his soft breast is clover-red. The bee 
Buzzes his drowsy monotone 
In that field just as he does in our own. 
Beyond the fields and river blue hills rise; 
Sometimes it is hard to tell them from the skies. 
And white clouds fold upon them, till we see 
Visions of cloud-land where hills used to be. 
70 



THE FARM 

These hills seem always calling to the flowers, 
And the spirits of the meadow through the 

sunny hours 
Breathe back their answers in the faint per- 
fume 
That gently wafts so often to my room — 
The one just under the roof where the swallows 

build 
And the rain beats when the night is wild. 
I love to hear the storm spirits shrieking loud. 
The ruler of the storm is fierce and proud ; 
He lashes all the trees and beats the rain 
Until it fairly bounces on the window-pane. 
He rides the lightning and holds the thunder, 

till 
The deep sound rumbles on from hill to hill. 
I love my room with its flowers on the wall 
There used to be many — the sun has taken 

nearly all ; 
They are faded flowers now, pressed and put 

away — 
Fragile, but they hold the all of a by-gone 

day. 



71 



THE FARM 



II 



I think we're having doughnuts to-night; 
They'll be all sugary and yellow and light; 
And an apple-pie, I smelled that too, 
And we '11 have it on the plate with blue 
Houses and trees and meadows where grow 
Blue flowers not like the field flowers though. 
Then the stars '11 come out ; I ' ve always thought 
That when it was dark the fairies brought 
All the good daisies up to the sky, 
And then they were stars — so often I 
Tried to wait for the morning light. 
To see the stars in their earthward flight, 
Gliding down to the meadows fair; 
They are daisies as soon as they get there. 
I never could see them, for I fell asleep 
And dreamed that I was trying to peep; 
And the flowers' fragrance wafted to me, 
And the smell of the farm where life is so free. 



HAYING 

They are mowing to-day. 

Yesterday the summer breeze tripped over the 

field 
And the grasses bent slightly as it passed 
And quivered in waves of silver eddies. 
To-day there is the startling click of the ma- 
chine 
As the great bay pair walk slowly about. 
The grasses are falling like shattered hopes, and 
The sun is beating down upon the wilting, warm 
Clover and the ox-eyed daisies with drooping 
Orange petals. Those daisies wilt so soon after 
They are cut. There is a little girl, with dark 

eyes. 
And brown curls clinging to her warm pink brow, 
Picking up the flowers — poor wilting flowers : 
The white daisies melt like snowdrops in spring, 
And the poppies die like extinguished flames. 
All the sweetness of the meadow 
Is charmed forth by the sun, and the birds 
Are singing sweetly as they flit over the field 
Where the purple grass is falling. 
73 



HAYING 

There is an agitated butterfly fluttering about 

Like a lost soul — she is soaring over the field 

And the dewdrops are her tears. 

She is searching for something — she poises 

And floats as the hawk after prey; 

She is not hunting to kill, but there was a clover 

She loved and it, too, has fallen. 

She is restless, and her yellow wings flutter 

Helplessly against the blue sky. 

She stayed long on the perfumed plume of the 

clover 
Last eve, and she cannot find it now. 
She is stifled by the concentrated sweetness 
Of the air so full of the breath of warm flowers. 
There is a little gray mouse scudding like 
A shadow over the leveled grass and flowers. 
The mowing-machine does not stop 
For the nest of a little brown field-mouse. 
Under the shade of the walnut tree there is 
A shiny pail filled with molasses and ginger. 
I think that Ganymede never served to the gods 
So pleasing a drink. 
It has a piece of crystal ice in it, 
And all the flower-sweetness mingles in that 

pail; 

74 



HAYING 

That is why it never tastes the same 

Anywhere but in the hay-field. It is so 

Golden brown and so cool. 

The sun is slowly sinking behind the hills, 

And it sends out a golden glow 

Over the field. The men are still at work 

Just raking the last bits and stacking 

It in cocks — oh, the sweetest, lightest cocks 

To jump in and bury one's self in. 

And listen to the crackle and struggle 

Of a surprised cricket, and smell the mingled 

Fragrance of every field-grass and flower 

Warmed by the delicious summer sun. 

Oh, there is nothing just like the hay-field. 



TREE-FELLING 

On a lonely far-off hillside 
Where great pine trees grow, 
Where the clouds hang low in summer 
And warm breezes blow; 
Where the dryads and the wood-nymphs 
Dance beneath the silver moon 
Till the stars come down to meet them 
And the night is all in tune — 
On the lonely far-off hillside 
Rippled by a silver brook, 
And the moss was green and lovely — 
Many a trout-pool, many a nook 
Where the fairies and the dryads, 
Gliding from the hearts of trees, 
Gazed upon a mirror surface 
Till it vanished in the breeze. 
To the lonely far-off hilltop. 
To the fairy-haunted fell. 
Came a chopper bringing axes; 
Echoes answered through the dell, 
And the breeze so warm in summer 
Shrieked and moaned until the wood 
76 



TREE-FELLING 

Answered in a low, deep thunder 

All the fairies understood. 

All the dryads in their tree-trunks 

Trembled till their anguish swayed 

The great pine trees on the hillside 

And a deeper moaning made. 

Click! the axe cuts deep and cruel, 

And the chopper stops to see 

That a fitful snow is falling, 

Turns and chops more steadily. 

Strange! he thinks the snow is falling, 

He will never, never know 

That the dryad of his pine tree 

Has a spirit like the snow; 

He will never hear her moaning 

To the tree that held her long. 

If he does hear he will tell you 

'T is the echo of his song. 



SELLING THE LOT 

" Y'er home at last and I 'm glad yer be, 
I ben waitin' fer ye to come see 
The cow that was sick, she 's worse to-night 
A-bellerin' away in an awful plight. 
Ye'd better go out and see her now, 
* Cause we can't afford to lose that cow. 
The summer folks '11 be coming along 
And the cows and the hens jest can't go wrong. 
I '11 get yer supper while yer out, 
And there 's something else I '11 tell yer about. 
Farmer Stiles was over to-day 
And told me the news 'fore he went away, 
But come, yer must be after that cow 
I can't stop gossiping it seems, anyhow." 

She went with him to the little door 
And gazed a moment or so before 
Turning to cook the griddle cake. 
And take out the pie she 'd left to bake. 
The cattle breath and the smell of hay 
Mingled with the odors of waning day; 
78 



SELLING THE LOT 

A stillness threaded the evening air 

And the breeze ruffled her straight gray hair. 

A hen with a brood of little chicks 

Cackled and clucked between her picks; 

The apple tree by the gate to the road 

Blew in the breeze till its petals snowed 

And the ground beneath was pink and white 

Like hoar frost in the fall twilight. 

The spring with the old pump, mossy green 

And verdant grass that oozed between, 

Stood there in the evening sun 

Like a traveler when his journey 's done. 

She stood in the doorway and gazed at this: 

It always brought her happiness, 

It always left the shell of a dream 

And the vision of things she 'd never seen. 

She turned and vanished in the gloom 
Of the little farmhouse, took her broom, 
Swept the floor, and set aright 
The kitchen table for their supper that night. 
Then he came in — "Too bad," he said, 
** But that cow 's beyond me, she 's lying 
dead; 

79 



SELLING THE LOT 

And we ain't got all the milk we need — 

Them summer folks is hard to feed. 

I '11 go to town in a day to two 

And see if there's anything there I can do. 

Did you say Jim Stiles was over to-day? 

How is he and what'd he have to say?" 

A flicker of pain flashed in her eye 
As she cleared her throat to make reply: 
'Well, Silas," she said, ''Jim told me as how 
He and the new man had an awful row 
Over that strip of land, you know, 
Between us and Jeremiah Snow. 
It belonged to Jim and that rich new man 
He's trying to buy all the land he can. 
I guess he'll be askin' this next thing. 
Would yer sell it, Silas? it looks good this 
spring." 

Silas was silent a moment or two. 
I '11 sell that land the last thing I do, 
And never to him as long as I live, 
And I '11 make the will so 's never to give 
Him a chance to get it ; look what he 's did ! 
I wish to heavens the place was rid 
8o 



SELLING THE LOT 

Of him and his likes a-buying land 

And struttin' around feelin' so grand. 

Now 'taint that I 'm nasty, 

But he shan't have this lot 

He tells them around here, this house's a blot, — 

Wall, I guess we'd best be turnin' in, 

Yer gettin' tired and a-lookin' thin. 

It 's a long time since yer've left this spot 

Yer gettin' stale as like as not." 

Through the weird candle shadows they stole to 

bed; 
She lay awake, and thought how he'd said 
She was gettin' stale — would they ever go 
Away from the place — she did not know 
Whether or not she wanted to, 
But she dreamed of things she never knew. 
To-morrow would be the very same 
As the day before — yet they say life 's a game. 



THE TELEPHONE 

I ain't lonely now like I used to be; 
It 's funny how little '11 interest me. 
I uster sit there day after day 
And never a soul 'd pass my way, 
'Cept onct a month the old mail-man 
He alius brings me what news he can ; 
But 't aint so much — now I ken get 
Morn'n a day than I used ter forget. 
You see we've put in a telephone, 
Since they run the wires by Jim Malone's 
Wall ; the other day I heerd the bell 
An I run to it — say, yer never heerd tell 
Sech talk as it was. Yer know Jim Lake 
And that gal with red hair, I see him take 
Her to the dance in Jake's barn last night. 
He called her to-day. Guess he likes her 
all right 
"Hello," sez he, "how be yer to-day?" 
She did n*t seem ter hev much ter say. 
"All right," sez she, "an* how are you?" 
"Oh, I'm feelin' fine — I alius do." 
82 



THE TELEPHONE 

"How's yer mother, is her cold gone yet?" 

"Yes, it's most all well, now if she don't get 
No more, — Say, are yer comin' over to-night? 
I was thinkin' as how perhaps you might." 

"I guess not — I ain't milked the cow, 
An' it 's pretty muddy, anyhow." 

"Oh, no, come on, it ain't so bad — 
I wish't yer would, mar'd be awful glad." 

"Say, why don't yer talk louder, I can't hear; 
Yer not asleep, are yer, yer voice ain't clear — 
Well, I guess someone else is listening too." 
I was just goin' to say as how I knew 
Better and thet there wa'n't no one. 
When I thought as how it would n't 'a' done. 
I hung up all shakin', s'pose they knew 
That I 'd been a-listenin' to them too! 
But anyhow I hev a lot of fun. 
An' most alius they don't suspect no one; 
An' I hears more news than I heerd before — 
There 's the bell now — I must run and hear 
some more. 



THE SWAMP 

The spring grass grows green first in the swamp; 

The elves of the brown earth 

Chip slivers from a huge brilliant emerald 

And thrust them up through the oozy black 

swamp mud 
And the sunshine makes them warm and soft. 
It is thrilling to wander through a swamp in 

spring; 
There are many odors of the growing things 
And the sunshine is always deep gold in the 

swamp ; 
The cowslips catch the sunbeams as they steal 

up through the earth, 
And smile them back into the slimy water. 
There is a wonderful glisten on the petals of 

cowslips 
And their green leaves are fresh and shiny 
And smooth for the fairies to dance on. 
There is a beautiful mist that steals over the 

swamp at night, 
And in the morning it is all gathered, 
And lost in the swamp violets. 
84 



THE SWAMP 

And the violet fragrance is the love-of-the-mist. 

The huge veined leaves of the skunk cabbage 

Sway in the breeze and seem always to try to hide 

The purple and yellow hood beneath. 

It has such an ugly smell when you pick it 

And bring it into the house; 

But its odor mingles with all the spring sweetness 

And it just smells swampy out of doors, 

And everyone loves the odors of the swamp. 

The fuzzy curled fronds are fast growing 

Into the beautiful lacy fan of the summer fern, 

And they smell spicy and sweet. 

It is always spring-time cool in the swamp 

In the summer when the riot of flowers come 

And flash their brilliant colors. 

Still it is deliciously cool, 

And fire-flies, the souls of flowers, glint in 

Deepening shadows and thread the swamp mists. 

They are gathering dewdrops from the air; 

In the morning they melt back into the flowers 

again. 
Almost every flower has a golden chalice; 
The ones that have not are soulless 
And the swamps do not love flowers without 
Fire-fly souls. 



RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD 

Up from the swampy meadow 
Where the tiger-h'lies grow, 
And the scarlet cardinal flowers 
On their slender green stems blow, 
Where the silver brook is calling 
And rippling to the breeze, 
Spot of black and flash of crimson 
Flitting from the swamp-fed trees, 
Did you touch that wing a-flying 
On a maple's blossom red? 
For the same clear spot of color 
Flashes as you float o'erhead ; 
As you flutter bending earthward 
On the jet-black shiny wing, 
Orange-red as maple blossoms 
In the freshness of the spring. 



86 



CHILDREN AND FAIRIES 



FAIRY OF THE LEOPARD LILY 

Fairy of the leopard lily, 
Dancing on a moonlit sea, 
With an orange-spotted petal 
Draped in splendor over thee. 

All about the bells are ringing, 
Dainty bluebells silver sweet. 
Don't you hear a soft, soft rustle, 
Fairy wings and fairy feet? 

Fairy of the leopard lily. 
Gliding in a moonbeam shell, 
With a sea-sprite pink as sun mists, 
Spirit of the wildrose dell. 

See, a golden star is falling 
From the singing summer sky. 
Bright within the shell of moonbeams, 
Glinting, darting fire-fly. 

All about the moon-mist waters 
Like a star that threads the blue 
89 



FAIRY OF THE LEOPARD LILY 

Glide the fairies in the sea shell 
Drawn by fire-flies of gold dew. 

In the morning, by the sea shore, 
Where the moonbeam shaft was drawn, 
Someone found a scalloped sea-shell 
Pink as are the skies at dawn. 

And the flaming leopard lily 
Swayed in anguish on the hill, 
For the spirit of his wild rose 
Stayed within the conch shell still. 



. SUNLIGHT FAIRIES 

Over the sunlit river, 
To the heart of the silent hills, 
The fairies of light are dancing 
Like golden daffodils. 

They gleam on the silver water 
And smile to the sea-shell sky; 
They sway in the evening stillness 
Like love-thoughts drifting by. 

They blaze all gold on the treetops 
In a living, shimmering light, 
Till the evening shadows deepen 
That beckon the mystic night. 

Then into the heart of the massive hills 
They glide like a river of gold, 
Until the petals of morning 
In jonquil light unfold. 



91 



STAR REFLECTIONS 

Out of the mist of evening 

Into the twilight sea, 

The fairies from dreamland come fluttering 

In a film of mystery; 

And the diamond dew is falling 

On all the sleepy flowers, 

Velvet petals gently drooping 

With the music of the hours. 

The stars in the drowsy silence 

Shimmer and fade and glow; 

They love to die in the water, 

A star reflection below. 

And the little water-fairies. 

Who dance with ripples that sway, 

Take them and hold them for hours 

Till bloometh the rose of day. 

Then they kiss each star and it floateth 

Up through the morning mist, 

Into the life of the dawning sky 

And the film of amethyst. 



92 



FOXGLOVE 

Last night red fox was naughty, 
He made faces at the moon, 
And called the baby foxes 
To the council rock too soon. 
He scared the chickens on the roost 
And woke the wise old owl ; 
He nosed a woodland fairy, 
And he made an elf -man howl. 

To-night the fairy of the glen 

Chased him far and wide; 

Red fox was very frightened 

But he did n't know where to hide. 

He ran about the forest. 

And the dryads joined the chase; 

The elf-sprites were delighted 

And laughed at his disgrace. 

But poor red fox kept running 
Till he was tired out; 
Then he crawled beneath the garden gate 
And stopped to look about. 
93 



FOXGLOVE 

But there the fairies caught him 
And held him, oh, so tight, 
Until they found a flower 
By the moon's bright light. 

They put one on each naughty paw, 
Which made it hard to run — 
A fox with gloves ! The fairies 
Thought that was the greatest fun! 
Then poor red fox got up and walked 
As good as he could be ; 
And ever since the flower 
Has had that name, you see: 
Foxglove with its pretty spots; 
And so I 've understood 
That fairies put it on the hands 
Of those who are not good. 



FAIRY SNOWBALLS 

The fairies had a snowball fight: 
They made the balls of the moon all night, 
They threw them about in the purple sky, 
And laughed as they watched them gliding by 
But soon they wearied of this wild game; 
With children and fairies It's just the same; 
And they left the silver balls lying there, 
Moon-balls all glinting and gleaming fair. 
Some people call them stars, you know, 
But the fairies will tell you it is not so ; 
And if you watch some moon-strange night, 
You may see a fairy snowball fight. 



95 



THE SLEEP FAIRIES 

From out the valley of the moon 
With its pale, transparent light, 
Fairies come floating like soaring gulls, 
And dance on the hills of night. 

The fairy of sleep, with her drowsy eyes 
And beautiful star-jeweled hair. 
Wanders all dream-flower-laden. 
And the fragrance fills the night air. 

And all the fairies from sleep-land 
In rainbow mists gently pass. 
Leaving an empty dream-shell, 
The diamond dew on the grass. 

And the white moth fairy 's flitting 
Before the shimmering moon; 
The frog and the cricket are singing 
And trying to get in tune. 

Just as the sky is blushing 
With a thrill for the love of the day, 
Thousands and thousands of fairies 
Float in white mists away. 
96 



THE ECHO FAIRY 

The echo fairy's been busy to-day 

Over the hills and far away: 

He caught the wind by his streaming hair 

And held him till he filled the air 

With moanings loud and angry shrieks 

That echoed afar to the mountain peaks. 

Then the echo fairy went over the sea 

And caught its murmur of mystery. 

Then back he flew on the breath of the breeze 

And gave the sea-sound to the swaying trees. 

Then he flew to the land where the daylight 

dies 
And gathered the petals of fading skies. 
He stole a dewdrop and fiew afar 
Till it echoed in the morning star. 
The echo fairy has lots to do 
Just echoing laughs of girls like you. 
He tells me he likes that best of all, 
And he bears them away to the waters that 

fall. 



97 



\ A STAR WEDDING 

We saw them in their earthward flight, 
A glorious stream of living light; 
And many thought 't was a comet, but we 
Knew *t was the star and her moonbeam set 
free. 



THE ANGELS* PATH 

Moonlight over a sleeping world 
And a misty veil of dreams, 
Studded with golden starry light 
And woven of soft moonbeams. 

Moonlight over a silent sea 
And a hazy swaying light, 
A quivering, changing path of gold 
For the angels of the night. 



lOI 



^ A STAR WEDDING 

We saw them in their earthward flight, 
A glorious stream of living light ; 
And many thought *t was a comet, but we 
Knew *t was the star and her moonbeam set 
free. 



THE ANGELS' PATH 

Moonlight over a sleeping world 
And a misty veil of dreams, 
Studded with golden starry light 
And woven of soft moonbeams. 

Moonlight over a silent sea 
And a hazy swaying light, 
A quivering, changing path of gold 
For the angels of the night. 



lOI 



HIDE-AND-SEEK WITH THE STARS 

The daisies last night played hide-and-seek 
With the stars, and they promised not to peek 
Till the little star fairies were hid in the sky 
And the angel of morning was passing by. 
One poor little daisy shut her petals tight, 
But she heard all the stars hiding through the 

night. 
How could she help but take one peep, 
And then she said, "I'll go to sleep." 
She opened her petals soft as could be. 
Then she looked about, and what did she 

see? 
Only one little golden star 
That was n't yet hid in the morning far. 
But the angel of dawn, who saw her peek. 
Laid a dewy hand upon her cheek. 
The daisy cried, for well she knew 
That to peek was a naughty thing to do. 
All day she was sad while the other flowers 
Trembled and thrilled through the sunlit hours, 
Waiting for the dusky eve to play 
Hide-and-seek with the stars so gay 

102 



HIDE-AND-SEEK WITH THE STARS 

And tried to find where the night before 
They'd hidden themselves. But the poor, 
Sad little daisy could n't play, 
'Cause she peeked, and that's not a daisy's 
way. 



THE SMELLING-SALTS AT THE 
DANCE 

We sat there each day and every night, 
Forever on a plain cloth of white, 
And we talked to the brush and the nail-file too, 
But we longed for something more to do. 

Sometimes her delicate fingers would touch 
One of us, and we thrilled so much; 
But you see we were only her smelling-salts 
And even we have our grievous faults. 

My lady was pink and I was blue, 

And we loved as bottles all must do. 

It was hard to wait for the silver light 

Of the swaying moonbeams to come each night. 

You see it was then we had our fun 
And the bureau frolic was begun. 
One night, when all were snug in bed, 
We had a dance, and powder-box led. 

The comb and brush were gliding about 
And all the cologne came leaking out. 
104 



THE SMELLING-SALTS AT THE DANCE 

You see the cologne bottle lost his head 
Over a mirror-lady he longed to wed. 

And we, my lass of pink and I, 
Danced till we thought our odor would die. 
Next morning the lady awoke to see 
The bureau most disorderly. 

*T was rather mean, yet we could n't tell 
When all the blame on her, poor maid, fell. 
We were all most terribly sleepy next day ; 
The powder-puff fainted and fell away. 

The button-hook dropped to the floor with a bang, 
And told the shoe that it could "go hang." 
It's terrible after a dance, you know. 
We 're all so stiff, but we all love it so ! 



LOST 

I LOST my temper yesterday, 
And thought, What shall I do? 
I hate to go without my temper — 
Tell me, would n*t you? 

I looked behind the kitchen stove 
And underneath the chair, 
But still I could n't find my temper, 
No, not anywhere. 

Then I looked behind the bathtub. 
Where the brightest sunlight shone, 
And I saw a fairy smiling 
At what she was sitting on. 

An ugly black shadow 
That tried to get away; 
But I knew it was my temper 
And I said. No, not to-day. 

So I slipped it in my pocket, 
But I took the fairy too; 
Because the fairy of a smile 
Can keep your temper for you. 
ic6 



A LONELY ALLIGATOR 

Far from the silver water, 
Far from the wooded strand, 
They brought him, a crawHng reptile, 
To a strange and far-off land. 

Far from the tropic breezes 
That fan the dizzy air. 
They brought him, ugly reptile, 
With dreams of his home so fair. 

They brought him to his prison — 
No golden glinting sand. 
No palm trees to whisper to him, 
No sun in this foreign land. 

And he dreamed all night of the tropics, 
Till a moonbeam gliding by 
Paused a trembling moment 
And heard a longing sigh. 

Then she brought a dream before him, 
Of a sunlit glittering sea, 
107 



A LONELY ALLIGATOR 

And a mate that was calling, calling 
From under a great palm tree. 

And he crawled away to meet her, 
And called the love-call back; 
What mattered the prison to-morrow 
After the joy of that! 



CHILDHOOD 

I THINK long, long ago, before I learned to walk, 
I used to hear the fairies and woodland elfins 

talk. 
I seem just to remember a fairy bright and gay 
Who played with me and laughed with me all 

the livelong day. 
I wish she would come back again, the fairy of a 

smile. 
And play with me till I forgot my sadness all the 

while. 
There were fairies in the flowers and fairies in 

the trees, 
There were fairies in the whisper of every evening 

breeze. 
Dear fairies, come again to-night and play within 

my heart : 
The echo of thy voices make childhood visions 

start. 



109 



A SAIL ON THE MOON 

Did you ever hear of the fairy 
Who rides on the shining moon — 
A merry-go-round, with the Httle stars 
All playing their wondrous tune? 
I saw him one night when the moonbeams 
Had not reached down from the sky 
To take their little fairy 
Up to the moon on high. 
He sat on a soft brown mushroom 
Under the sighing trees; 
He whispered and laughed with pleasure, 
And teased the evening breeze. 
At last the moonbeam came streaming 
Through the branches and lay 
In quivering golden silence 
To take the fairy away. 
I stepped on the beautiful moonbeam 
While it lay trembling there. 
And, do you believe me, dearest? 
It bore me upon the air 
Into the purple shades of night 
To the shining orb of the moon, 
no 



A SAIL ON THE MOON 

And I heard the little golden star 
Playing a wondrous tune. 
And then the moon began to sail - 
O, dearest, try it some day: 
Step on a golden moonbeam 
And let it bear you away. 



SUNBEAM 

Where is the golden sunbeam 
That came to your room to-day? 
Did the elf of cloudland come, dear, 
And carry it far away? 

Ah no, I see it peeping 
From out a baby curl ; 
That beautiful shining sunbeam 
Is part of my little girl. 

Should the elf of cloudland come, dear, 
To take the sun from your hair. 
Just smile, and the little sunbeam 
Will hide in your dimples there. 



ZI2 



FAIRIES 

Fairies, when the moon is high 
And the stars are passing by, 
Fairies of the silver sea, 
Dancing, dancing merrily. 

Fairies, when the morn is pale 
And the lily's waking frail, 
Fairies on the shimmering sea, 
Dancing, dancing happily. 

Fairies, when the sun is up 
Poising on a flower's cup. 
Fairies on the golden sea, 
Dancing, dancing merrily. 

Fairies, fluttering near the rose, 
Smiling while her petals close, 
Fairies on a sunset sea. 
Dancing, dancing happily. 



"3 



MORNING MISTS 

Fairies with your wings a-quiver 
Underneath the pale moonlight 
You have gayly danced and frolicked 
With the spirits of the night. 
Purple silence overspreading 
Drowns the voices of the sea, 
Till they murmur gently, gently, 
Echoing fairy revelry. 
Far beyond the hazy hilltops 
Rise bright fairies to the day; 
Morning mists we often call them 
As we watch them float away. 



114 



THE ECHO OF A LAUGH 

Away, way up the mountain-side 
A beautiful fairy queen 
Reigns o'er the moonlight fairies, 
Two bands called Shimmer and Sheen. 
The shimmering fairies go threading 
Their golden way in the sky, 
Till they hear the sound of laughter 
As they are flitting by. 
They gather the ringing melody, 
And before they are even seen, 
Fly back and give the music 
To the silvery band of sheen. 
All night in the heart of the forest, 
To the music of laughter gay, 
The moonlight fairies of shimmer and sheen 
While the hours away, 
Until the last star-fairy 
Smiles from the morning sky. 
And the lovely silver sheen fairies 
Take the echoes of laughter and fly 
Back to the children who smile at dawn 
And lay them on the bed. 
115 



THE ECHO OF A LAUGH 

Some children say a sunbeam 

Is playing about their head. 

They never guess that the sheen fairies 

Have brought the echo there, 

To make the day seem happier 

When it ripples in laughter fair. 



THE LOST FAIRY AND THE 
AUTUMN LEAF 

A POOR little starbeam fairy- 
Lost himself last night 
Along the path of the autumn moon: 
She dazzled him with her light. 

Poor little starbeam fairy- 
Did n't know what to do; 
So he played he was a sunbeam, 
And no one ever knew. 

But at eve, when the golden sunlight 
Called his children home, 
The poor little make-believe sunbeam 
Was left on earth all alone. 

At first he was terribly lonely, 

And almost began to cry, 

When he spied more make-believe sunbeams 

Peeping at him close by. 

And then began such a frolic 
As you never saw before; 
117 



THE LOST FAIRY 

The little starbeam fairy 
Was n't sad any more. 

He took an autumn leaf by the hand, 
And danced all that beautiful night, 
And the moon did n't dazzle his eyes again. 
But she smiled on such star delight. 

Next morning the starbeam fairy 
Danced to the morning breeze; 
A little girl saw, and said, laughing, 
'*0h, look at those playful leaves!" 



FOREST STREAM 

Where the rippling stream is brightest 
And the golden sun is lightest, 
Where the shadows glide and play 
In rhythmic ripples all the day, 
Where the cadence of a song 
Fairy-uttered all night long, 
Echoes in amongst the leaves 
Of the murmuring sighing trees; 
Where the moss is cool and green. 
Where the moonlight leaves its sheen. 
And the fairies of the night 
Dance to ripples of starlight, — 
Take me there and let me be 
A fairy of forest mystery. 



119 



A THOUGHT 

Through the dark and sombre pine trees 
Slipped a golden gleam of love; 
Woodland fairies hovering near it 
Dreamed a star fell from above. 
And they fluttered in the pale light, 
As our visions 'round a thought 
Quiver in translucent mystery 
Till reality is caught. 



120 



SNOW 

I WISH I knew what became of the snow 
After the winter is gone. 
Is it lost in the first white snowdrop 
When the warm sunlight has shone? 

No, I see it there in the heavens 
That used to be cold and gray; 
Clouds heaped so white and snow-like, 
And they drift o'er the fields where snow lay. 

They will fall again next winter, 
Those beautiful clouds of white. 
And lie sparkling in the sunshine 
With diamond stars of light. 



121 



WHO CALLS THE FLOWERS? 

Mother, who let the snowdrop out 
From under the cold, dark ground? 
And where did the crocus come from. 
This one that you just found? 

I think a fairy came to them, 
And with her wand of light 
Wakened the pretty flowers 
From their sleep of winter night. . 

Do you think it was a fairy, dear, 
Who brought the flowers of spring? 
Who talks to the birds at evening 
Until they gently sing? 

No, dear, it is God's angel 
Who kissed away the snow, 
And called the little flowers 
To see the sun and grow. 



122 



THE FAST LITTLE CLOCK 

'T WAS the prettiest clock you ever saw 
When it smiled its charming half-past four ; 
And it ticked and ticked with alluring tone 
In the brightest way you have ever known. 

The great hall clock frowned in despair 
At the dainty clock with the piquant air. 
There was one fault that she really had, 
And grandfather clock thought her very bad. 

She was fast; yes, alas, we must admit, 
And besides she did n't care one bit. 
She tossed her delicate hands 'fore her face. 
And chimed with glee at the very wrong place. 

A moonbeam fell in love with her. 
But grandfather clock would ever demur, 
Saying, clocks that are fast must never wed 
But be punished very severely instead. 

One night the moonbeam trembled near 
To the fast little clock he loved so dear, 
123 



THE FAST LITTLE CLOCK 

And said: "The stars in the sky '11 not be 
Aghast that you're fast, in the least degree." 

So she went with him on the moon's gold light 
And her lovely chiming was heard all night. 
The fast little clock 's as glad as can be, 
Yet the jeweler said she was broken, you see. 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA 

There was a green vase in the hall 
Just behind the door, 
Where all the canes were left, you know. 
Instead of on the floor. 
The tennis rackets stayed there too 
All through the summer days; 
But they were elite and went somewhere 
For the winter months always. 
But there was one umbrella there, 
A lady of high degree. 
She wore green silk and her handle was 
As shiny as could be. 
The hickory cane with the golden head 
Loved her, and every night 
The two would stroll about the house 
In the spell of the deep midnight. 
They were really going to be married, 
And the hall-clock smiled with glee, 
For he was going to marry the cane. 
To the umbrella of high degree. 
One summer's eve, e'er the nuptial day 
Was set, the door-bell rang; 
125 



THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA 

The canes and umbrellas thrilled with delight 

For 't was then their fun began. 

They never knew just who would come, 

And they always loved to see; 

Perhaps Sir Golf Club or Base-ball Bat 

Or le Frangais parapluie. 

To-day, oh, thrills! who should there come 

To the green vase in the hall. 

And smile on the canes that languished there, 

But the lovely Miss Parasol. 

She was so dainty, all pink and white, 

With her beautiful ivory head. 

The gold-headed cane was entranced by her, 

He forgot he was going to wed. 

The clock in the hall frowned half-past four 

And spoke to the frivolous cane; 

The green umbrella wept as though 

She 'd just come in from the rain. 

At last Miss Parasol sweetly smiled 

And ruffled a lacy good-bye; 

We never knew what became of that cane. 

Miss Parasol and L 



THE LAMENT OF A FEATHER 

What a sad ending! 
Packed so tight we cannot hear 
Our shrill-throated chanticleer, 
Cannot see the sun's first light 
That used to wake him after night — 
What a bother ! Here we are 
Packed like sardines in a jar: 
I, who used to glint and shine 
In the sun, now peak and pine 
In a pillow. Oh, I hate it! 
Yes, I knew my life was fated ; 
For the coxcomb told me so; 
He 's the soothsayer you must know, 
And he said my life would be 
Very dark, and you can see 
That every word he said was true. 
I tickled my hen, all feathers do 
If ever they get excited, and then 
We ruffle a laugh at the funny old hen. 
But dear me, those good days are o'er, 
I don't tickle hens or laugh any more 
127 



THE LAMENT OF A FEATHER 

In this stuffy pillow — Never mind, some day 

I '11 scramble out and get away. 

My sister did it, but sad to tell 

A worse fate was hers — she fell 

Into a dust-pan all shiny and black; 

Just as she thought she liked shellac, 

A hurricane blew her with bristly ire 

Into the hungry flames of the fire. 

Oh, my poor sister! I heard her cry, 

As she flew up the chimney, a feath'ry good-bye. 



IF I WERE A RED, RED CHERRY 

If I were a red, red cherry 
Away up in a tree, 
With lovely, shiny skin 
And warm sunbeams on me, 
I think the thing I *d like the best 
Would be to touch the sky — 
It comes so near to cherry trees. 
And, of course, I 'd grow up high 
Where little boys can't reach, you know, 
And where the butterflies 
Please to flutter — Oh I would 
Just love to touch the skies. 
And feel the softness of the clouds 
In banks of snowy white; 
I 'd love to stay and touch the moon 
When it comes out at night. 
If I could touch the soft blue sky, 
I would never be afraid 
Of the robins and the crows because 
They do not dare, it 's said, 
Eat a cherry if it can but 
Reach the soft blue sky. 
Perhaps I '11 be a cherry some day 
And have a chance to try. 
129 



I CANNOT UNDERSTAND 

Papa is very polite, you know, 
And Mama says I must be 
Just like him — take off my hat 
When a lady speaks to me, 
And always stand when older folks 
Come in, and tell them all 
How glad I am to see them. 
And *t was nice of them to call. 

Papa is very polite you know: 

He carries things for Mama. 

Of course, it does n't make much 

difference 
Just how heavy they are. 
The other day Papa and I 
Were walking home together; 
The rain was falling and the wind 
Just made it awful weather, 
There was an old woman walking 
With a big bundle in her hand. 
Why did n't my Papa help her? 
I cannot understand. 
130 



THE LOST THOUGHT 

Far away in the land of the stars 
Where the golden moonbeams play, 
And the starlight fairies hide at night 
When they hear the whisper of day; 

Far away from the hands of life, 
Over the sea of dreams, 
A beautiful love-thought went astray 
And was lost in star-land gleams. 

Long it wandered among the stars 
And played with the moonbeams light, 
Till one tender, beautiful moonbeam 
Brought it to thee in the night. 



131 



MOTHER^S FLOWERS 

I HAVE a lovely little garden with lots of pretty 

flowers ; 
And they like the nice warm sunshine and they 

love the gentle showers. 
It's fun to see their tiny eyes shining, oh, so 

bright. 
When it's been raining ever so hard all through 

the night. 
Mother has some pretty flowers, roses and 

pansies too. 
On a little cloth for the table — it's just about 

sky-blue ; 
But those poor flowers nearly died because the 

rain can't fall 
On them and make their eyes shine bright, and 

the sun can't come at all. 
So I took a pitcher yesterday and gave them 

water to drink; 
I don't see why God forgot them and mother 

was angry, I think. 



132 



DREAM-CHILDREN 

Just a bubble; it touched the earth there, see! 
Just a dream and it touched reality. 

By the fireside, in the golden flames, 
Two children are sitting playing games. 
Soft flaxen curls about her head 
And his dark brown just tinged with red. 
Oh, see the soap-bubble floats in the air; 
The colors are so lovely — rainbow fair; 
And how they love to watch it ! Mother dear, 
'T will touch you and be broken ; look, it 's near! 

I think it touched ; there 's nothing now to see, 
But a drop of water where the bubble should be. 



133 



MOTHER-LOVE 

The last ember died in the fire-grate; 
With it her life-light was extinguished; 
And she left this for her baby child — 
Perhaps it was because it was all she had, 
Perhaps she had a reason which God knew. 
It was a mirror — a little piece of forest brook 
Where there were no ripples, where it was smooth. 

The child gazed sadly into the mirror; 

She saw her mother's face — she was crying: 

"O Manda, mother is sad and it is raining; 

I am sad too — I am sad like the evening breeze." 

Manda looked into the mirror; 

She kissed the child and the child smiled. 

"Look again in the mirror," Manda said. 

"Oh, mother is happy now, her face is smiling." 

"Yes," said Manda, "mothers are happy when 

Their beloved children are." 



134 



FANS, FANCIES AND FRIVOLITIES 



WHY? 

Why do your eyes say one thing and your lips 

another? 
I hear you speaking of the lightest things in life, 
Things for a child to say, and laughing as a child. 
I hear you laugh and see excitement take you 
By the hand — whisper something in your ear, 
And you speak of life's most sacred things in 
A mocking ridiculous jest. 

And I look into your eyes, beyond the outer blue 
To thy inner self, thy silent thoughtful self that 

I love, 
And your eyes do not say what your lips are 

saying. 
Why do your eyes say one thing and your lips 

another? 
Why does your mind stay back like a frightened 

deer 
In the thicket, while you utter thoughtless vani- 
ties? 
Your truthful eyes tell me that you love 
A sacred thing — sacred of all things, and. 
Being so, the easiest to revile. It were useless 
137 



WHY? 

To say more. I see your eyes say they 
Are longing for something, — peace, quiet, 
A sunny field and a grass-banked brook 
Where cowslips grow and honey-suckle scents 

the air. 
Your lips say you are delighted here, 
Odors of perfume stolen from the fields. 
Words do not paint the contrast as vividly as I 

know 
It is painted in your own heart. Still I 
Must wonder why your eyes say one thing 
And your lips another. 



HER NEW FAN 

She took me with her last night to the ball ; 
I was her most favored trinket of all ; 
For she held me in her hands, you see, 
And often whispered and laughed through me. 
At dinner I lay on the cloth of white 
And blinked in the dazzling shining light. 
I ' ve never heard such a noise in my life ; 
I did n't dare speak even to the knife 
That lay beside me and smiled with glee 
For he was used to such gayety. 
My lady was laughing, and talking too 
About such funny things perhaps she knew; 
But I, being only a feathery fan, 
Don't understand all some people can. 
At ten by the grandfather clock in the hall 
We started off for the country-club ball. 
"Hello, Louise, I just love your dress,'* 
My lady smiled in prettiness; 
"Oh would you please see if my powder shows - 
I had to put such a lot on my nose. 
I love your hair, will you show me how 
You do it some day? I love the bow — 
139 



HER NEW FAN 

Oh come, let's go now. Where's my fan? 
Can you keep yours? I never can." 
That hurt my feelings a bit, you know, 
And I felt my feathers softly blow. 
Then we went upstairs and she laughed some more 
With the men who were standing at the door. 
More glaring lights and a strange loud sound ; 
I ruffled my feathers and looked around. 
She said, "Have you seen Louise to-night? 
Her dress is ugly, a perfect fright. 
I don't see how her mother can 
Let her wear it — and oh, her fan! 
But come, I 'm dying to dance, are n't you? 
Oh, look! There's Sally, she's dressed in blue, 
And the way she's done her hair is new." 
To repeat all I heard in the next few hours 
Is beyond me and all my fan-like powers; 
But if you want to know, read this again, 
For all she said seemed just the same. 
At last, when morning was almost here, 
My lady and I came home, — I fear^ 
A little the worse for wear. 
She sat by the mirror and looked at her hair. 
Perhaps the mirror could tell you best 
Just what she thought and all the rest. 
140 



HER NEW FAN 

She put me away with her old, old fan, 

And we talked together as only fans can, 

While I told of all that had happened that night 

Under the glaring electric light. 

The old fan spoke in a voice soft and low: 

"My child, it was just so years ago." 

To-morrow we '11 talk to the minuet fan 

And see if 't was the same since her life began. 



A QUESTION 

Why do you like her? I should love to know. 

She is very pretty, I grant you that, 

And your favorite flower's the one on her hat; 

And she is a girl and very sweet — 

The kind of a girl all men like to meet. 

With golden hair either curly or curled 

And teeth very pretty, white and pearled; 

Her eyes are lovely, most all girls' are, 

And they do have brightness like a star, 

Especially if they like you; but oh, 

I forgot, it 's why you like her I want to know. 

Well, that's hard to explain, if you analyze, 
Love must always take us by surprise. 
I don't know just why — you say she's a girl. 
And she 's very pretty with hair a-curl 
And tender eyes that laugh into mine; 
I like to watch them when they shine. 
I don't really love her, not yet anyway, 
I might, you know, yes, I might some day. 
She is different from me, but that 's the best way — 
Something you know, like the night and day; 
142 



A QUESTION 

And I like in her what 's lacking in me — 

Laughter and fun and frivolity. 

It's such a good change from my prosy Hfe 

Of everyday work and toil and strife; 

And she has brains, not the brains of a man, 

But a bright, quick mind that understands 

All the delicate lightness of life, 

And that, too's a change from my strain and 

strife, 
But there's no one reason that I like her, you 

see — 
Just she's a pretty girl and attractive to me. 



THE MIRROR OF A FICKLE GIRL 

She bought a new hat yesterday, 
With roses pink and a bow of gray. 
It was very pretty — she thought so, too; 
Girls always will when a hat is new. 
The minute it came, in its striped box, 
She put it on her soft brown locks, 
And the tissue paper blew to the floor — 
The mirror smiled — "How many more 
Hats, I wonder, am I going to see, 
And reflect each 'as pretty as can be ' ?" 
How much the shiny mirrors could tell 
If we listened, for they know too well. 
Not only what we are wont to say. 
But they know all our thoughts — gay 
And sad. She put on the hat and smiled to see 
How pretty she looked — ''Will he like it on me?" 
The mirror heard her whisper, and thought, 
"I wonder for whom this hat was bought." 
Had ever a mirror so much to do 
In reflecting and remembering who 
Had to be pleased by each new hat! 
Oh, we mirrors are always doing that. 
144 



HIDE AND SEEK 

I CANNOT find you ; 

I have hunted, but in vain. 

I must call you forth 

Or else you will have to speak and tell me 

Where you are. 

I cannot find your real self; 

I have searched and thought I found it; 

But I know it is not your real self now: 

This tinsel clink of flattery, these light words, 

They are not uttered by your real self. 

Is it that you have very cleverly hid yourself, 

and do not want 
Me to find you? I have searched long. 
Will you not speak one true word from your 

heart 
And let me know where your real, lovely self is? 

Others have told and the game is ended. 
There is no searching after we have found. 



145 



THE ROSE ON HER HAT TO THE 
ROSE ON THE BUSH 

Said the rose on her hat 
To the rose on the bush, 
"Good morning, and how is the sun? 
I Ve stayed so long in the closet dark 
That I did n't know spring had begun. 
That 's a beautiful butterfly hovering near - 
They never will come to me. 
I wish I were growing just like you: 
How wonderful it would be ! 
I never can. feel the breath of spring 
Or long for the blue of the sky, 
And try and match it to the shade 
Of the blue bird fluttering by. 
It must be so lovely to feel the dew 
On the velvet of your leaves, 
And whisper back to the murmur 
Of the spring in the dreaming trees!" 

Said the rose on the bush 
To the rose on the hat, . 
"I am tired already of spring, 
146 



THE ROSE ON HER HAT 

And the butterfly seems so far away. 
Oh, what can the dewdrops bring? 
For I must fade and droop in the sun 
Warm, wilting petals of pink.** 

I wonder which is the happier rose? 
Tell me, which do you think? 



THE STRAY LOCK 

It was a lock of curly hair: 

The wind kissed it and thought it fair. 

Dancing a ringlet dance it went 

With the playful breeze in soft content. 

It laughed, and a sunbeam gliding down 

Mingled its gold with the lovely brown; 

A little hand gently pushed it back, 

But the bad, stray lock did n't mind that. 

It was sick of staying with the rest — 

The wind and the sunshine were much the 

best. 
Besides there was such a dimply smile, 
'T was fun to see it once in a while. 
No, I don't blame that lock of hair 
For loving the sun and the breezy air. 

And least of all — for I Ve strayed, too, 

To see that dimpling smile — Would n't you? 



148 



A LETTER 

A LOVE-DREAM sheathed in paper-white 
Passion the lurid leaping light, 
And it burns for a moment red and clear, 
Then vanishes, taking all that was dear. 



149 



SCANDAL 

Who started the snow-ball of rumor 

Rolling down life's hill 

In precipitous flight 

That loses sight 

Of the summit of truth until 

It lies besmeared with scandal? 

When it melts and leaves 

What the world believes. 



150 



A PILL 

A GLASS of water 
Pure as the sunshine on the sea, 
Clear as the air that sweeps the lea — 
And a pill. 

A small white pill, — 
An unpoetical thing, you say; 
And yet, pray cast it not away. 
Think on it. 

This pill in water — 

Is it not thus that our thoughts dissolve, 
In the billows of life as the years evolve 
And are lost? 

You'd call them lost? 

But they flavor the substance in which 

they melt 
And grant me their essence still is felt, 
Like the melted pill. 



151 



ALONE WITH FANCY 

Just to be alone, and think under the blue sky; 
Just to be alone, and see day-dreams floating by; 
Sunlight over the water, mermaids over the 

sea, — 
Alone with sound of breezes and life's wonderful 

mystery. 

Just to be alone, and listen to the lisping of the 
breeze, 

Trembling kiss near to the branches of the bud- 
promising trees; 

Far beyond the lacy hilltops, dreams and dream- 
trees are floating by. 

And my thoughts drift out to meet them, as they 
mingle with the sky. 

Just to be alone and silent, midst the murmurs 
of this life; 

Just to be alone, forgetting that there ever must 
be strife; 

Till the shadows of the evening gently quiver 
over all, 

I would sit and dream and answer to a far un- 
known call. 

152 



A FANCY 

Like mist-clouds drifting o'er the lea 

Her garments fell beside the sea, 

And lay in white foam on the beach, 

Wind-blown beyond the wavelets' reach ; 

Far in the shades of the evening sky 

Sea-gulls, foam-born, floated by. 

Still she stood like a swaying flow'r, 

Silent in the twilight hour; 

A Goddess 'gainst the murmuring sea 

Wrought so pure and fragilely. 

The quivering waves reached out to touch 

The limbs they'd borne and loved so much, 

And a beautiful fluted sea-shell lay 

On the sand like rosebuds cast away. 



153 



THE BIRTH OF VENUS 

A SUNSET shell beside the sea, 
Soft flushed with rose-breathed mystery; 
A rainbow spray that lay in foam 
On the beach of her Ionian home. 

And all about the faintest mist, 

Like a dream of hazy amethyst; 

Far o'er the sea of silent light 

Breathed rosebud skies to greet the night. 

And primrose shadows were mingled too. 
Fading in the deep sea-blue; 
A sea-sprite gathered all the light 
And laid it in a shell this night. 

Smiled o'er it and she was born, 
Venus of light and love, next morn. 
With rose-breathed limbs and hair of gold, 
Eyes of sea-blue and depths untold. 

They found the pink shell on the strand, 
Clasped in the glistening silver sand. 
And a rainbow spray that fell in foam, 
On the beach of her Ionian home. 
154 



A FANCY 

'TwAS morn! 

I looked and saw a face bending over mine; 

I heard a voice — the voice that Hlies have lost ; 

I raised my lips to meet thy fragrant lips, 

And then a mist fell over me and my world. 

'T was noon ! 

I thought warm waves of sunlight fell on me, 
But when I looked it was thy wonderful hair; 
Oh, it was like the ripples of eternity; 
And then a mist fell over me and my world. 

'T was eve ! 

Something in the murmur of the far, far sea, 
Something unuttered wafted to my ears; 
I looked into the heaven of thy eyes, to see 
No mist, but thou in living, trembling glory. 

*T was night! 

And a deep dreamy peace was in my heart. 
With the voice of the velvet-footed star-beams 
You called me, and my soul leaped apart; 
It took you, not I, and held you in throbbing love. 
155 



GARDENS AND FLOWERS 



HER GARDEN — MY GARDEN 

With the perfumed breath of each flower 

Mingling in the breeze; 

With a jasmine mist over the waters 

And a whisper of far-away trees ; 

The primrose sky faint smiHng, 

Touching the lips of night — 

Her garden — my garden, I love you 

In the mist of waning light. 

In the paleness of moon-lit shadows 

Swaying to and fro, 

Where the heliotrope breathes to the silence 

And slender hollyhocks grow;; 

Where the fairies dream-winged 

Are rising out of the dewy grass — 

Her garden, my garden, I love you 

In the soft star-gleams that pass. 

Fresh morning with floods of sunshine 
Pouring over the hill ; 
Diamond dew on the flowers, 
And petals that tremble and thrill; 
159 



HER GARDEN — MY GARDEN 

Pink to the morning sunrise 
The moon-kissed hollyhocks sway — 
Her garden, my garden, I love you 
*Neath the fleecy clouds of day. 



LILY OF THE VALLEY 

Lily of the valley, with your pretty bells, 

Can you keep a secret that the spring breeze 

tells, 
Of the golden sunshine and the rainbow dew, 
Of the flower fragrance wafting forth anew? 

Lily of the valley, with your bells so white, 
Can you keep a secret of the summer night, 
Of the glorious sunshine, of the fragrant flowers 
Breathing into silence of the silver hours? 

Lily of the valley, from every opening bell 
Wafts a springtime secret you thought not to 

tell; 
All the fragrance of the breeze, the mystery of 

each star, 
The beauty of a summer night breathes forth 

near and far. 



i6i 



THE LOTUS 

Lily of mystery and charm, 
Lily of ecstasy and harm, 
Lily of sleep and long forgetting, 
Consciousness is but a fretting. 

Beautiful lily of visions and dreams. 
Thy petals are faded and all life seems 
But a lingering tear in a soul of delight, 
Beautiful lotus of lavender light. 



162 



CANTERBURY BELLS 

Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; 
Ring them, dainty fairies, all the mystic night; 
Chiming on the waters to the silver moon, 
Chiming, chiming, chiming, all the night's in 
tune. 

Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; 
Ring them, pretty fairies, till the dawn is bright; 
Till the echoes flying far beyond the hills 
Wake the drooping lilies and the daffodils. 

Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; 
Ring them, little fairies, in the gold sunlight; 
Till the daisies answer and the heart shall hear 
Fairy bells a-ringing, chiming sweet and clear. 

Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white ; 
Ring them, airy fairies, when eve dims the sight ; 
Chime them to the sunset and the rising moon ; 
Sweet the air with bells a-chiming in the fairy 
tune. 



163 



WHITE LILY 

White lily atilt on the waters, 
Smiling gold to the sky, 
Dreaming of clouds and soaring birds 
And breezes wafting by. 

White lily afloat on the waters. 
Sweet as the joy of a dream. 
Watching the mystic moonbeams 
Shimmer and glint and gleam. 

Lily afloat on the waters, 

Folding thy petals of white. 

Life of thy life enfolding. 

Thou art lost in the love of the night. 

Lily afloat on the waters. 
Lovely thy petals of white ; 
Faint are the golden heart-throbs; 
Thou art lost in the love of the night. 



164 



A GARDEN 

The golden sunbeams linger 

On the dew of the velvet grass, 

And the long, long shadows of evening 

Silently, softly pass. 

The heart, too, is wont to linger 

Like the sunbeams here, you know; 

For 't is such a lovely garden 

And the flowers are fair that grow, 

And the long, long shadows of sorrow 

Melt in the moon's soft light, 

In this dream-garden made of beauty 

And love and spirit-light. 



165 



HELIOTROPE 

Lacy flowers like the mist 
Of evening distant amethyst, 
Breathing perfume to the skies; 
Charming, passing butterflies, 
Yellow wings that fluttered far 
To rest on perfumed lavender; 
Emerald flashes dart and float 
Humming-birds with ruby throat, 
Jewels flashing one by one. 
Diamond dewdrops in the sun — 
Lovely, fragrant heliotrope. 
Emblem of undying hope, 
By the moonbeams softly kissed 
Dreaming dreams of amethyst. 



166 



WHERE LILIES GROW 

Black as the shadows of the night, 
Black with a streak of bloody light, 
Across the smouldering evening sky 
The flames of fire have serpented by. 

The trees are naked every one, 
Like a gnarled and twisted skeleton. 
Like a thought of consuming pain it swept, 
Like a viper it hissed and hungrily leapt. 

And here we stand on a wasted plain, 
Bespeaking horror, blackness and pain. 
This one little pool escaped the fire. 
And from the oozy night-black mire. 

One lily as pure as the upper air, 
A water-lily, is floating there. 
White petals out of a black despair 
Gold stamens into the sullied air. 

There was a city as black as the wood. 
Charred with despair and devoid of good ; 
167 



WHERE LILIES GROW 

The blinding sheet of fire and pain 
Had swept it and left it blacker again. 

Out of the sin and mire of life, 

Out from the killing rancorous strife, 

Another lily lifted her head 

Out from the rabble of morally dead. 

And she was as pure as the lily that came 
Where the greedy fire had leapt in flame. 
In this life of mystery lilies of snow 
In sin-black mire and waste may grow. 



FORGOTTEN 

The butterfly promised the rosebud 
To come to her at dawn; 
He forgot and the rosebud withered 
With the drooping mists of the morn. 

And the little butterfly fluttered 
Over the summer fields, 
And sipped of the gorgeous poppy 
And the nectar that clover yields. 

At eve with wings a-tremble 

The butterfly came again 

To the rose, but she had vanished; , 

How many have known her pain! 



169 



I KNOW 

Dear rose, thou wast but a bud last night, 
Only a dream-tinged promise of the flow'r 
Before me now, this rainbow sunlit hour. 
Tell me, dear, of thy most rare delight. 

Dear girl, but yesterday I saw thee young and 

fair; 
What of the new light in thy maiden eyes. 
Deep as the mystery of summer skies? 
Yesterday only a mystic promise was there. 

Dear rose, hath love come unto thee as well 
And charmed thy delicate petals apart; 
Mirrored all life in the depths of thy heart? 
Dear rose, I will not ask that thou shouldst tell. 
I know. 



170 



A VIOLET 

All in a violet — 
The freshness of the dewy spring, 
The echoes of the birds that sing, 
The flutter of a downy wing, — 
All in a violet. 

All in a violet — 

The rays of the warm and golden sun. 

The pureness of a day begun, 

The shadows of the evening done, — 

All in a violet. 

All in a violet — 

The loving thoughts that fill the air 
And breathe their sweetness everjrwhere 
To make the dream of spring more fair, — 
All in a violet. 

All in a violet — 

The tender love I bear for thee; 

All that thy life means to me, 

With a faint, far dream of eternity, — 

All in a violet. 

171 



A PATH 

There was a woodland path — you know 

The kind, where Indian pipe-stems grow 

Because they love the darkest place, 

To stand in ghostlike fragile grace. 

Silently and lonely I wandered through 

The deep, black wood where the pine trees 

grew; 
And all of a sudden a shaft of light 
Pierced the depths and shone there bright, 
Dazzling in its beauty rare; 
And the grass was green and flowers were fair. 



172 



THE BROOK 

What is the little brook saying, 
Chattering all the day, 
To the leaves and grass and flowers 
That bend on its waters at play? 

I think it sings of the great fields 
That the wood-flowers never see. 
And the warm blue sky and sunlight, 
The brook is so wild and free. 

It sings of all the flowers 
That make the air so sweet 
With the perfume of dainty petals, 
When the wind is playing fleet. 

And it sings of love and laughter 
And yearning longing, too; 
I think perhaps it guesses then 
That I am longing for you. 



173 



TANSY AND CHICORY 

A SUNBEAM fell to earth and shattered lay 
Among the swaying shadows of the day. 
Then evening smiled, a magic sunset smile, 
And night of mystic dreams came the while. 

Next morning in a field, gold tansy grew, 
And here and there a touch of heaven's blue; 
You 've seen such spots full often, so you know 
How fair it is to see a sunbeam grow. 



174 



CRIMSON ROSES 

Crimson roses in the garden 
Breathing to the pallid moon; 
Velvet petals soft and fragrant 
Warmed by sunbeams gold at noon. 

She so loved to walk among you, 
Crimson roses, warm and sweet; 
And you held the silver hours 
Of her life that slipped so fleet. 

Slipped like glimmering mists of morning 

Out into the great unknown; 

Gently, gently palpitating, 

By the wind of death-sleep blown. 

Crimson roses in the garden 
Filling all the moon-beamed night, 
Are the angels singing to you 
Of her spirit pure and bright? 



175 



SONGS AND SEASONS 



SONG, 

Oh, the music of the sky 
When the stars are passing by, 
And the angels up on high 
Breathe a song when mortals sigh. 

Oh, the beauty of the night 
When the moon its splendor bright 
Sheds in rainbow shafts of light 
On the fairies of delight. 

Oh, the wonder of the day 
When the last star melts away, 
And the birds with voices gay 
Sing a joyful roundelay. 

Oh, the peace of evening when 
The daylight breathes amen. 
And the mist o'er vale and glen 
Charms the day to night again. 

And the music of the sky 
When the stars are passing by, 
And the angel songs on high 
Echo soft when mortals die., 
179 



YOU 

Her robe was the dusk of the evening, 
Her hair shone with silver starlight, 
Her eyes were filled with the haze of a dream 
That spreads its strange way through the 
night. 

Her cheek was the blush of dawn skies 
When the morning star fades from view; 
Her soul was the spirit that fills the air, 
And her beautiful self was you. 



i8o 



SONG 

Take me over the hills, dear, 
Far, far away; 
Take me Into the distance 
Beyond the light of day. 

Into the far, soft shadows 
Where the daffodil star 's agleam; 
Where we can love, my dearest, 
Love and live and dream. 

Take me into your life, dear, 
As the night enfolds a star; 
Take me into your arms, love; 
The world is pleasing afar. 

Oh, just for a perfect moment, 

Bury my pain in thy kiss; 

The pulse of life is throbbing 

In this transcendent moment of bliss. 



i8i 



A SONG 

Out of the mists that lie^over the lake 

The fireflies ghnt and the wood nymphs 

awake; 
Out of the primrose evening sky- 
Fragrance of flowers is wafting by; 
The silence is bringing a dream to thee 
From rainbow dell of mystery. 
Far, far over the lofty hills 
Sleep the wanderer stops, and fills 
Her iridescent goblet with light 
And strange misty fragrances rise through 

the night. 
The star of evening far, far away 
Is glimmering of what the angels say. 



182 



HER HEART 

Pale as transparent moonlight 
That waxeth gold with the dawn, 
Fair as the spring-fresh morning 
When roses and violets are born. 

Her heart, as an evening primrose 
When the shadows of pain o'erspread, 
Opens in tender beauty 
To smile at the night overhead. 



183 



A MYSTERY 

Strange life and stranger love ! 
Who can understand 
How much pain and joy is fate - 
How much hath God planned. 

Strange life and stranger death ! 
And then — the still to be; 
Fate is in the hand of God 
And all is a mystery. 



184 



SAILING 

I WENT for a beautiful sail last night, 

All through the star-lit sky; 

And the swaying glinting moonbeams 

Silently shimmered by. 

The clouds were soft and dreamy 

And they rocked the boat to and fro, 

As the pine boughs rock in rhythm 

When the gentle breezes blow. 

And I sailed through the golden silence, 

Where the angels float in mist, 

My boat, the shell of a lovely dream, 

Floated in amethyst. 



185 



SPRING AND FALL 



SPRING 

It is spring: 

There is a beautiful restless sadness in the air; 

So much that is lovely, 

And we are so small to enjoy all 

That makes the soul restless. 

Lovely spring: 

It has taken my soul away somewhere — 

To a cloud, I think, — 

But it has left me here 

With the exquisite sense 

That I am part of this luxuriant dreamy spring. 

I hear a voice calling. 

Who is it that calls? 

It sounds as the evening sounds 

When it calls out the gold-tipped stars. 

I love to hear it. 

Now it is like the voice of the red-lipped poppy 

Calling serenely sweet to the bees in the fields. 



189 



SPRING 

Spring is so dellciously feminine ! 

It tells secrets as maidens do; 

It has the faint indecision of a girl 

And all the luxury of promise; 

And the stars on spring nights 

Are maiden-eyed. 

There Is a sweet convincingness about the spring, 

A clinging tenderness; 

And the nights are full of love. 

There is so much behind the moon on spring 

nights ! 
The angels touch a tender chord in spring; 
That Is why the breeze is so soft. 
It would be a sacrilege to be boisterous 
In the dreamy silent silence of a spring night. 



SPRING ECSTACY 

Oh, wild and joyous ecstasy, 

Tinged with the joy of expectancy. 

How perfect and complete ! 

I think the world is made of light, 

With purple stains of rich delight, 

Of love and harmony. 

Soul, thou hast reached the height of bliss; 

What can be more sublime than this! 

My heart be still. 

This is the height of dewy spring, 

When the trees bloom and the birds sing 

In merry roundelays. 

The heart answers in throbs of delight 

To a voice that is calling out of sight, 

The voice of exultant spring. 



191 



SPRING PROMISE 

She was so like a dream of springtime, 

With its freshness and misty shades ; 

Her eyes were like the lovely moonbeams, 

With a wistful shadow that fades. 

The flowers had breathed on her tresses 

And the sunlight had sought them there, 

And loved to stay, for it found them 

Exquisitely dainty and fair, 

Like the petal mists of morning 

When the rose sunrise shimmers through ; 

A mystery hovered about her, 

A promise that might come true. 

Dear little soul of the springtime. 

In whose world wilt thou fulfil 

The beautiful promise of love and life 

That God hath granted us still. 



192 



A BIRD'S CALL 

The call of one bird, 

And over the hills a stirring, 

Is heard, as though the spirit of spring 

Were trying each misty fluttering wing. 

The call of one bird, 
And out of the ice-freed silver lake 
The mists of morning rise and shake 
Rainbow dew over hill and brake. 

The song of one bird. 

And in the far, faint echo I hear 

Thy voice, I see a vision appear 

Of thee in thy loveliness drawing near. 

The song of one bird ; 
The breezes are answ'ring o'er the sea — 
Thou and the spring come back to be. 
Each a part of life's mystery. 

All in the call of a bird. 



193 



THE SPRING MOON 

The crescent moon rose over the lea 
Out of the rippling shadows of the sky, 
Where dreams and visions floated gull-like by, 
And lay upon the bosom of the sea. 

Beneath the waters of aqua marine 

A conch-shell lay, pink-tinted and curled 

Like petals of the rose unfurled, 

Deep in the wonder of the ocean's green. 

The crescent moon sank into the sea 
Deep to the heart of the curved conch-shell ; 
The primrose petals of morning fell, 
And the conch-shell lay on the lea. 

An echo of waves on the shore of sleep 
Deep in the heart of a shell on the strand, 
And a glitter of gold on the silver sand, 
The crescent moon that sank into the deep. 



194 



A SPRING SONG 

What makes the spring air so soft? 

Is it the thoughts of love, 

Or the dreams we have dreamed 

That vanish into the blue sky above? 

Is it the whispering flowers 

Or the breath of the silvery moon, 

Or is all the spring air sweetness 

Just that the heart is in tune? 



195 



BLUE SKY OVERHEAD 

The soul in me is not yet dead 
Because the blue sky overhead, 
The springtime sounds that fill the air, 
Thrill me still and seem so fair. 

To-day I saw a little bird. 

And his sweet caroling overheard ; 

My heart thrilled like an evening breeze 

And trembled like the white birch leaves. 

This eve the air is springtime cool, 
Sweet as the freshest summer pool. 
And all the world is full of spring, 
Full of dainty imagining. 



196 



THE BLUEBIRD'S SONG 

Little bluebird of the spring, 
Tell me, in the song you sing 
Of the flowers and the trees, 
To the rippling of the breeze, 
To the skies of thy own hue — 
Little springtime bird of blue. 

Yes, I sing of trees and flowers 
Through the lovely summer hours, 
To the breath of soft blue skies, 
To the water's fall and rise, 
To the sunshine and the dew. 
And, little girl, I sing to you. 



197 



FALL FLAMES 

I WATCHED the greedy flames of fire 
Exultant, leaping high and higher, 
Wild and lawless, ruddy, bright, 
Full of lurid passion light. 

It burned an hour like life afire, 
Thrilling and rising ever higher; 
Then the glow died in its own wild flame — 
Died like the vanishing dream of fame. 

An ember fire smouldered low, 
Tenderly warm like breezes that blow. 
It did not die in its own wild light. 
But glowed with warmth through the long, 
fall night. 



198 



FALL SKY 

That is my life, 

That gray sky with a gash of red, 

The one bright spot of a hope that is dead ; 

You 've seen such skies. 

And you 've loved most the gash of light. 

So do I love all my life that 's bright — 

I love it best. 



199 



A LEAF — A LOVE 

A CHEERLESS sky: 

The wind is high, 

And the leaves are gone from the tree. 

One trembling trace 

Of summer grace 

Is left for the world to see. 

A golden leaf 

To the winds of grief, 

But the dream of summer is there. 

We gaze at it, 

And bit by bit 

Forget the winter despair. 

Two souls that part : 

A broken heart 

And dead hopes drift on the wind. 

Love gently clings 

When life's other things 

Are lost to the grief-sick mind. 



200 



A LEAF — A LOVE 

In love we see 

Life's imagery, 

The dream of the purest and best. 

The leaf on the tree, 

The love that shall be, 

Endure all and stand the test. 



CHANGE 

How all things change ! Last night the summer 

breeze 
Trembled and quivered through the leafy trees; 
This morning there are murmurs far away, 
Long, lazy shadows like the ocean sway 
Across the sunlit grass. I cannot understand: 
The selfsame scene I saw last night, the strand 
That smiled unto the summer sun ; 
But, oh, how changed! The honied fall has come; 
The air is clear as fairy bells and thrills 
The throbbing heart, but, oh, deep down fills 
It with drowsy, aching pain ; 
The fall of waning life hath come again. 



202 



A DREAM OF THE FALL 

Pale yellow leaves of autumn 
Like warm shadows of the sun ; 
Petals gently falling 
From the flowers one by one. 

Long, long evening shadows 
Steal across the lea; 
Flaming sunsets flash their color 
On the stormy wind-tossed sea. 

Honey in the scented air, 
And katydids that call 
Shrilly in the quiet night, 
And we dream the dream of fall. 



203 



AUTUMN CONTRADICTIONS 

Quiet, golden autumn days 
When the heart is in a maze; 
Exultant 'neath the mellow sun, 
Regretful of the summer done. 

Quiet, lustrous autumn nights 
Ablaze with heaven's fiery lights : 
The splendor of the harvest moon 
Creates a ghostlike, earthy noon. 

Quiet, weeping autumn hours; 
A day of contradicting powers; 
Flaming leaves that soon pass by; 
A love within a heart to die. 



204 



RELIGIOSA 



IN THE NIGHT 

In the long, long, silent hours, 
In the velvet folds of night. 
Hours that cry out to the darkness 
And faint within the pale starlight : 
When the sad heart aches and trembles, 
Crushed beneath the palm of pain. 
Soft a voice comes from the silence, 
'Bear thy cross; 't is not in vain." 

In the long, long, silent hours. 
Wild with soul-consuming grief. 
Throbs the heart in bitter yearning. 
Groping, longing for relief. 
Soul, be patient; in the darkness 
Thou canst neither see nor hear, 
But a hand is reaching tow'rd thee — 
Christ, the sufferer, bending near. 



207 



RESIGNATION 

She is at rest — 

That thought doth fill the heart 

And quell the bitter tears that fain would start ; 

She is at rest with God. 

She is at rest — 

And for her sake we bear the aching pain 
Until our hands perchance shall meet again, 
In God's great peace. 

She is at rest — 

Peace, peace, my soul, her spirit is too near. 
That this unthinking grief should form a tear : 
Hers is the perfect peace. 



208 



GOD KNOWS 

There are times when the heart is o'erflowing 
With the bitter elixir of pain, 
When the clouds hang low in heaven 
And the mist is changed into rain. 

There are times when the tears from the heart's 

depths 
Well up in the longing eyes, 
Bleed through white lids that tremble, 
And the butterfly hope-dream dies. 

God knows these hours of our suffering, 
And His angels bend yet more near: 
I think sometimes that heaven itself 
Is reflected in a pure tear. 



209 



MELROSE ABBEY 

Here in the time-dimmed ages of the past, 

Hearing sweet chimes upon the morning air, 

Shepherds and good town folk might repair 

To kneel in unmolested peace, and cast 

The burden of their sins away at last 

In the deep, voiceless sea of faithful prayer. 

The spirit of those souls must still be there. 

We enter. The great window, stained and glassed 

So long ago, now frames the green fields, and hills 

Beyond. The chimes' reiteration fills 

The air, the dainty bluebells rung 

By fairy hands, while distant hymns are sung 

By angel choirs bending o'er us here. 

What wonder that we hold this spot so dear! 



210 



WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY 

When the golden moon is high, 
Gliding through the silver sky; 
When the night is cool and damp 
As with vapors from a swamp, 
Where the mists are slowly falling, 
Where the whippoorwill is calling, 
And the swamp grass, fresh and cool, 
Grows within the black mud pool; 
Here before me I can see 
A church, men call it Trinity; 
It is but a shadow now 
Hid among the leafy boughs; 
Birch trees bending in the breeze 
With their palpitating leaves, 
Flowers breathing in the air 
Perfumed jasmine-sweet and fair. 
From the white mists o'er the lake 
Glinting fireflies awake, 
Starring all the mist swamp dell 
Till the Indians of the fell 
Wakened by their shimmering light 
Come and dance all through the night. 

211 



WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY 

Here a path leads to a pond 
And a bright light shines beyond, — 
Mystic, glittering path where play 
Water-nymphs with the waves that sway 
Where the water-lilies float, 
Like a dream-shell fairy boat. 
Through the water slowly wading, 
From the faint mists gently fading, 
Comes the deer with timid eyes 
Out of the forest's mysteries, 
Stands a moment in the shadows 
Scenting the far-distant meadows. 
With the dew-damp wilting flowers, 
Sleeping through the silent hours. 
Soft the dream is fading, fading, 
And the fallow deer is wading 
To a faint, far-distant shore 
And I see her now no more. 
Here, where long ago she fed, 
On her mossy flower-strewn bed. 
Where the crickets all a-singing 
Chirped — ah, list! a bell is ringing, 
And the Christian church is here 
Where was once the haunts of deer, 



212 



WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY 

And the moon that saw the dell 

Hears the ringing of the bell — 

Knows what years have brought from out 

Love and heresy and doubt: 

It is strange how oft I see 

No church, but a dell of mystery. 



THE GOLDEN CROSS 

Lost in the vast cathedral of the night 

My spirit wanders on dream-wings of prayer. 

And revels in the sacred wonders there; 

The purple pillars and the shrine starlight 

That trembles with angelic breath, then bright 

As palpitating moonbeams, but more fair, 

Burns to consecrate the holy*air. 

Reality is far beyond the sight, 

A dizzy sphere where worry, pain, and loss 

Are held by faith in a golden cross. 

And God is on His throne in the skies. 

Smiling on joy and on life's tragedies. 

Gazing, yet not sorrowing. He knows 

That bearing pain and suffering, the soul grows. 



214 



SOLACE 

I THOUGHT an angel came to me last night 
And stood before me in the misty- vision Hght; 
Her voice was soft as moonshine on the sea 
And all its splendor melted over me. 

Thine was the voice, my dearest, from the night, 
Thine was the vision and the perfect light ; 
My Mother, thou art ever near to me 
Since God hath set thy perfect spirit free. 



215 



SHADOWS OF GOLD 

How long the shadows linger on the grass, 
Waiting, perhaps, for her they loved to pass. 
Soft shadows, I have waited, too, in vain 
To see her — oh, to see her once again. 

Gold, sunlit shadows, now you move and sway, 
I see a vision, too, beyond the day; 
Far in the shades of evening's rose-soft light ; 
Shadows of gold, she is with us to-night. 



216 



SONNET 

Still there? Or is it but a dream of two 
Who long ago kneeled in reverent prayer 
Here by the arm of this fireside chair 
While night of star-eyes and mystery drew 
Near and laid her hand gently as angels do 
Upon them? What of a world of dim despair! 
Only the tender spirit of prayer was there ; 
O God, how swift those blessed moments flew! 
The hands of night must now spread far to reach 
The aching spirits and to comfort each ; 
And yet before the dear old chair it seems 
They two in prayer, hand clasped in hand, 
Still linger. Life is hard to understand — 
Reality resolves itself in dreams. 



217 



IN MEMORIAM 

Now is the cycle of a year complete, 
With all the changing light and shade of chance, 
And all the balancing of circumstance. 
Ah, me, the white- winged days are fleet! 



218 



AN ANGEL 

Silent I sit here in the dead of night; 
Far off the wondrous mystery of starlight 
Repeats itself in sparks of trembling gold, 
A baby lamb bleats in the distant fold ; 
All else is still, and perfect peace prevails 
Beneath the pow'r of the Love that never fails. 
Sacred and holy is the very air we breathe 
Gently do the unexpressed thoughts wreathe 
Themselves around a fresh and quivering wound. 

A voice from out the silence, sweet and low, 
Mingling with the gentle winds that blow 
A face; move not, my heart, it is her own — 
The same dear blessM face that thou hast known 
And loved so long. To-morrow thou wilt say, 
" I saw an angel in the night that flew away." 



219 



CRUCIFIXION 

We stand once more before His cross to-day, 

Thou and I, living those three long hours again, 

The hours of suffering and untold pain. 

The shadows of the evening steal away 

And leave a twilight of repose, to stay 

The throbbing thought. He died for us, what 

gain, 
O thou, dear one, was it all — all in vain? 
We do confess Him, we have learned to pray, 
And yet our hearts can see Him suffer still. 
Cleave to our own desires, forget His will. 
Add one more thorn to that death-plaited crown. 
And watch the life-blood flowing slowly down. 
Oh, could we but resist such sin that He 
Might be rejoiced that moment in some slight 

degree. 



220 



A PRAYER 

God keep thee, dear, 
Through all the wondrous starlit night; 
Through all its mystery of light, 
God keep thee, dearest one. 

God guard thee, dear. 
While all the light and shade of chance 
Sways o'er the field of circumstance; 
God guard thee, dearest one. 

God bless thee, dear, thy life and mine, 
And sanctify our sacred love, 
Make it more pure and more divine ; 
God bless thee, dearest one. 



221 



PORTRAYALS 



A PORTRAIT 

She is lovely, see her dainty head 
Profiled against the sunset golden-red. 
There is a classic beauty in her face, 
Madonna-like, exquisite in its grace. 
Titian dreamed the lily of her arms 
And rounded neck of maiden charms ; 
A mist-gold sun of long ago 
Is all around her — Oh, you know 
The way Correggio might have seen 
Her ringlet hair with its golden sheen ; 
And she is here, an echo of that art, 
Perfect and lovely with a woman's heart. 



225 



A GIRL 

Do you hear a laugh 
And then look to see 
Who the merry soul may be? 

She laughed and I looked about at her 
And met two shining eyes ; 
She was not lovely or even clean — 
Tell me, is that a surprise? 

Did you think she was really going to be 
A beautiful girl with golden hair, 
And warm, pink cheeks that softly blushed 
And red lips alluringly fair? 

She was n't, and if you like only that kind 
Don't read any more or you will be 
Utterly disgusted. She was sitting on the 

common bench — 
You know the kind, where you see 



226 



A GIRL 

Every creature that God ever planned, 
And when the warm springtime comes 
Lovers sit and coo like doves 
Sandwiched between the worst town bums. 

She had a lover — and called him her beau - 

And she sat there like the rest 

Chewing gum and pulling it out, 

And, mildly to say, she was gaudily dressed. 

With white shoes — once clean, perhaps, 
But they certainly were n't that day — 
And a skirt that rivaled the poppy. 
Because it was so gay. 

And a hat with a frail pink feather; 
If it saw the skirt, it looked white 
And it dropped with very shame, because 
It simply could not look bright. 

Her laugh was just like the dress she wore. 
Loud and gay and bright; 
And her brown eyes twinkled merrily 
With a mischievous, pretty light. 



227 



A GIRL 

And her fingers, with rings that children find 
In prize candy boxes, you know. 
Fiddled with strings and stretched her gum 
As far out as it would go, 

And she held the other end in her teeth : 
She may have been ugly, 
But she had the whitest teeth in the world 
And they glistened like pearls from the sea. 

Her hair was straight as the string of her gum 

And it blew all over her face; 

I think she had some gypsy blood 

Or belonged to the Indian race. 

I 've seen many girls and I 've loved a few, 
The pretty ones pink and white, 
But I envy the lad that sat on the bench 
With the little gum girl that night. 

She was n't clean — her hands were grimed — 
And she was n't pretty at all. 
You might n't like her, but I did, 
And what are mere looks after all? 



THE TEAMSTER 

The heavy team rumbles along 
And the teamster is singing a song, 
Singing in mindless delight; 
And his song when he 's out of sight 
Echoes upon the air, 
Echoes in vague despair. 

He has come to the end of the day — 

One more — spent the selfsame way 

As the one before, with the rattle of stones 

As he jars along — it would break your bones 

To ride there with him 

And to hear the loud din. 

It is just five minutes to five — 

It will take him an hour to drive 

With the heavy horses that walk so slow 

Back to his home, and the white snow 

Is just starting to fall. 

He stands and he 's very tall 



229 



THE TEAMSTER 

Against the blue boards of the cart. 

He wraps the horse blankets about him smart 

And the horses are still shuffling on, 

A motor car passes and is gone 

In a flash — lost in its dust 

They would not take it — but the teamster must. 

The snowflakes are melting in his face; 

The water trickles down to trace 

The deep wrinkles about his chin ; 

His pipe smoke rises in a thin 

Blue thread of smoke, 

Acid enough to make you choke. 

He is almost home now; in his eyes 

If you thought to watch them the tragedies 

Of life would vanish, giving place 

To gentler lines in the rugged face. 

The black door space has taken him in 

To his home, away from the rattle and din. 



THE MINER 

He blinks at the clear sunlight 
With eyes that have seen black so long, 
With eyes that no longer are strong 
To greet the radiant day. 

He has come out of the earth 
Where it is blacker than night, 
Where only a blinking lamplight 
Flickers a gruesome smile. 

The coal dust is as his face 

Streaked white from the sweat of his brow, 

And his weak eyes see better now 

In the brilliant sunlight. 

His muscles are strong as iron 
And his hand is calloused and scarred; 
Cramped from gripping the shovel so hard 
Into a crumpled claw. 



231 



THE MINER 

We cannot look at his heart 
Under the ragged suit of clothes; 
Under that heaving breast — who knows 
What his thoughts may be. 

Forged from the heart of the earth 
Where onlv a few men can stay, 
Those thoughts are different, they say, 
From the thoughts of other men. 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

The tent was close and smelly and hot; 

The polar bears had the coolest spot, 

But even their long, red tongues hung out 

As they wagged their heads and swayed about. 

The zebras dozed in the sultry air 

And thought of the grass in Africa; 

The baby giraffe was munching hay 

And his mother was dreaming of the day 

When she was caught in the noose of rope 

And dragged down the wooded jungle slope. 

The elephants stood over by the door 

And their swaying trunks swept on the floor : 

There were two more this year than there 'd been 

last — 
Two more to dream of a jungle past. 
The children laughed in wild delight: 
It reminded the elephants of hyenas at night. 
"Skinny," — one elephant turned his head, — 
"Look at that little tot dressed in red. 
The one with the flower on her hat, 
Do you remember the girl who looked like that? 
233 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

The same sort of sad gazing in her eye, 
She alius looked like she was goin' to cry. 
Do you remember her, Skinny, old man?" 
Skinny swayed his trunk, like elephants can 
And blew through his nose — "Don't believe I 

do." 
He said, "Tell me about her, could n't you?" 
"Well, 'twas when you first came to join the 

show ; 
I 'd come to it — oh, let's see — years ago, 
But I 've never forgot that girl or the clown 
Who alius used to take her aroun'. 
The clown was the tall one they called 'Old 

Skate,' 
And he slid on my back and held my slate. 
When I added two and two, which made four, 
It delighted the crowd — they used to roar 
With laughter and fun; then the girl's act came. 
She was a trapeze girl, and one night she got 

lame; 
She 'd been practicing almost all the day 
And Old Skate was there, he hung round that 

way 
Wherever she was — well, this day she fell — 
She could n't get her balance well, 
234 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

And she hurt her foot; Old Skate watched it all. 

He turned sort o' white when he saw her fall 

And went to her and took off her shoe. 

It was dirty and worn, and she had her blue 

Dress with the short skirt that day. 

Old Skate lifted her up and took her away, 

He in his old white clown suit and she 

Ail in blue, like a little fairy. 

She could n't walk, and that night I heard 

That they'd bounced her. Skate didn't say a 

word 
To any of the folks exceptin' me; 
' Con,' he sez, * it 's this way; you see 
They won't have the little girl no more 
And she 's gone away — she went before 
I could even tell her I 'd like to go 
And sort o' take care o' her, yer know. 
I give her the money to get away, 
But I reckon I '11 go too — I can't stay 
Now that she 's left ; there '11 be another clown 
To slide on yer back and bounce aroun'. 
I 'm goin' to-night, Con, and I '11 find her too 
She can't hardly walk, — whatever '11 she do?' 
He sat there thinking far into the night 
But he warn't there with the morning's light. 
235 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

I thought of him for many a day. 

Skinny, I guess that 's the elephants' way. 

They don't forget when they Hke a man. 

Well, in three or four months the moving began ; 

Then the bustle of pitching the tents and all : 

The circus life 's like the waterfall 

That rushed and roared in the jungle where 

I come from — only 't was more peaceful there. 

Well, first thing I heard when we got to town 

From one of the horses that goes aroun' 

And prances and dances through the street 

To tell folks, 'This show can't be beat.' 

'T was Old Bally told me, the best he could 

Knowing well as how it would 

Break my heart to hear he was dead. 

It warn't no use their going off, he said; 

At first they were happy as could be — 

They lived together awhile and he '- 

Cared for her and gave her some things 

That belonged to his mother — some clothes and 

rings; 
Valuable 'nuff, I guess, for she went 
An' pawned one or two; but afore she spent 
The money, he had her caught 
An' all crying and sobbing they brought 
236 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

Her to the judge's place and they made her go 
To some sort o' prison — not a real one, you 

know, 
But Old Skate was nearly crazy. He cried 
An' raved about; said he wished he 'd died 
Afore this. A yeller cur heard him say 
He was goin' to get the girl away. 
He went to the prison-like where she stayed 
And tried to tell them that he 'd made 
A mistake and to let her go. 
But that's not the way with the law, you know. 
So then Old Skate he broke his heart ; 
His face was all white and his lips hung apart. 
He went next day to the prison again. 
They would n't let him see her; so when 
He could n't get in, he sent a word 
To ask her to marry him. Then he heard 
As how she 'd said she never would ; 
So Old Skate he went away for good. 
The yeller cur followed him all around ; 
He said he was in some dream and the sound 
Of his sobbin* wuz pitiful to hear. 
Well, he went home with all that wuz dear 
To him in the world, gone. The yeller cur 
Listened awhile and he thought of her 
237 



A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS 

In the prison — Old Skate thought too ; 
Just to sit and think, 't was all he could do. 
The next mornin' some folks came in and found 
Old Skate lying stiff and cold on the ground. 
He 'd shot himself — Skinny, us folks of the zoo 
Have a queerer life than most folks do. 
There 's the little tot again in the red 
With the sad-lookin' eyes — Skinny, look ahead. 
Is n't that her mother standin' near? 
She's the trapeze girl, do you hear?" 

The little one stretched out her hand to say. 
Welcome — the mother turned and led her away. 
And the two great creatures swayed to and fro, 
Reaching out their trunks as far as they 'd go. 



REMINISCENCE 

It was a musty old closet, 

Filled with boxes and things, 

With funny old bangles for dresses 

And feathers for hat trimmings. 

It is funny how they remind us 

Of the clothes we used to wear; 

We lived in them and now they tell us 

The thoughts that have lingered there. 

They remind us of what we were thinking 

And whom we were loving then, 

When we left them there in the closet. 

If we should wear them again, 

They never would seem so pretty 

As we used to think they were. 

And our thoughts would be foreign to them 

Because we were so much older. 

The dust was gray on the boxes. 

And there was a musty smell. 

But you must have rummaged through 

store-rooms 
So you know the m^llee too well ; 
239 



REMINISCENCE 

How the dust streams to the window 
Where the sun is struggHng through, 
It gHnts and gleams so prettily, 
As the wings of bright fairies do. 
I sat there opening boxes 
And living over the days 
That were far out on Time's horizon. 
Dimmed by an ambient haze. 
With listless, dust-stained fingers 
I opened a long, thin box, 
Thinking to find wrapped bundles 
Of cloth for the children's frocks. 
Oh, tell me, have you ever 
Locked a love away 

In the deepest spot of your heart's depths 
And felt it again one day. 
Stirring with untold longing 
And yearning for what is past, 
I opened the lid and found my doll 
And I took her and held her fast. 
I had loved that doll with the passion 
Of the hungry heart of a child ; 
I had cried to her, sung to her, talked to her, 
And she always sweetly smiled ; 
I had kissed her as mothers kiss children 
240 



REMINISCENCE 

Till the paint all left her cheeks, 
And her hair that had once been curly 
Was matted in yellow streaks. 
Her eyes had never changed, though, 
They were just the same china blue, 
But they used to say they loved me; 
I think all dolls' eyes do. 
I had put her little dress on. 
And then hid her away, 
Because the folks kept saying 
I was too old to play 
With dolls; that I ought to sew 
And learn to sweep and cook. 
She had that same dress on to-day 
And the same sweet, smiling look. 
Oh, all the love of another day 
Flooded back on my heart, 
And all the dreams of my childhood. 
Till I felt the tear-drops start. 
I kissed her dear, hard cheeks again, 
As I kissed them long ago. 
The angels of Doll Land had guarded her 
All through those years, I know. 
And the joys and sorrows of childhood 
Flooded back again. 
241 



REMINISCENCE 

The strange, little childish worries 

That used to bring so much pain ; 

I heard a voice that I have not heard now 

For many longing years, 

The voice of the one who gave me the doll 

And used to dry my tears; 

I know not how long I sat there 

Holding my darling doll, 

While the dust streamed to the window 

And the sunbeams danced on the wall. 

I did not stay that morning 

To find the cloth for the frocks. 

I put all my dear, loved childhood 

Back in the little doll box, 

And I kissed the faded cheek again; 

It was foreign among the rest. 

I think the doll loved the kisses 

Given in childhood best. 



POSSESSION 

He sought her in the morning, 
When the sun was shining bright, 
With eyes of adoration 
That languished for her sight. 
And she was like the south wind, 
Gentle, sweet, and free. 
She loved, but, ah, thou seeker. 
Her love was not for thee. 

He sought her still at noontime, 
When the golden sun was high. 
And like the breeze of evening 
She saw, but passed him by, 
As oft the swaying shadow 
Flees the ardent wind. 
He loved her, longed to win her. 
Vowed she should yet be kind. 

He sought her still one evening, 
She did not fly from him : 
The wind was gently sighing 
And the sunset growing dim. 
243 



POSSESSION 

They heard a secret breathing 
All through the sunset haze, 
Stealing into their fond hearts 
Until love was ablaze. 

Like the slender lily she bent 
Her graceful head, 
" I love you, dear," and all the trees 
Echoed what she said. 
And then her loving heart depths 
Yielded him love and bliss; 
He sought her lips and reveled 
In her pure maiden kiss. 

The love weeks passed as flowers. 

Wind flowers on the hill; 

One morn he did not seek her, 

He said, "She is mine still. 

Why strive to hold what stands and waits, 

I will not seek her more?" 

Possession strangled what had been 

Questing love before. 



EONS AGO 

She was a creature fair to see, 

Wild and impulsive, ecstatic, free; 

And this was eons and eons ago 

When the world was not the world we know, 

When the jungle sang to another moon 

And the nights were all like the nights in June. 

He was a creature tali and strong. 

His shoulders were broad and his arms were long, 

And the fleetest-footed deer that ran 

Could not outpace this primal man. 

And they wandered under the great palm trees 

And waded in water up to their knees, 

And for many a year they lived close by, 

But she never came beneath his eye; 

And he hunted the forest and killed the deer 

And she lived on berries and fruits that grew 

near. 
One morning under the flame-colored sun 
They met and each feared the other one ; 
And he was strong and he thought to kill. 
But an unseen power turned his will. 
245 



EONS AGO 

And she fled through the forest, this fleet, wild 

thing; 
He followed swift as a bird on the wing. 
Over the ragged hills they sped 
And ever the form of the woman led ; 
And her golden hair streamed in the wind ; 
He could almost reach it from behind. 
And the morning sun smiled down in gold 
(He has often smiled so since I am told), 
But the warmth of the sun's smile wearied her. 
Still he rushed on, ever getting nearer, 
And he caught at the beautiful golden hair. 
His arm was strong and he held her there. 
And she turned as the doe turns when at bay, 
And her eyes spoke what her lips should say. 
She struggled in vain to be free once more. 
He held her, but not as he held her before. 
Not to kill. Have you seen a child hold a butter- 

fly 
When it longs to be free and it fears to die? 
She was still for a moment. He felt his heart stir. 
Then eons ago as it is to this day, he spoke to her. 
She could not understand, she tried to run again. 
He was a man — and to the thing he loved gave 

pain, 

246 



EONS AGO 

Roughly he grasped her wind-caressed throat dried 
From the chase and clutched it till she cried. 
Those crystal raindrops bleeding from her eyes 
He had not seen before, and strange surprise 
Gripped his heart. What creature could this be, 
What animal had stirred him thus strangely? 
He did not know that love was in his heart; 
He only felt a strange new throbbing start. 
And the sinking sun saw tear-drops in his eyes. 
The thing he loved fell to the ground and could 

not rise. 
The purple marks of his great hands were there 
Upon her neck so delicately fair. 
Gently he lifted her and bore her to his cave, 
This animal of all he hunted he would save; 
In a silvered shell he brought her water then 
From the bubbling stream in the rainbow glen. 
She lay on the jagged rocks all limp and frail, 
The cave was black and her limbs were pale, 
Like moonbeams on a beauteous summer night, 
And her hair streamed over her in golden light. 
And the man stood in the door of his cave. 
The man that was tall and strong and brave ; 
And this was eons and eons ago 
In a strange, past world, but we who know 
247 



EONS AGO 

Love, know the stirrings the primal man felt 

As by her side he tenderly knelt 

And gave her water to drink from the shell. 

A moonbeam that strayed in the cave could tell 

How she moved and opened her dizzy eyes 

And gazed about her in rapt surprise; 

How he lifted her gently in his arms, 

The creature he caught, but then dared not 

harm. 
And the moon was high o'er the silver lake, 
And the dewdrops glistened upon the brake. 
And the breeze was wandering through the wood, 
Quietly as though it understood. 
And the moonbeam that strayed into the cave 
Saw the first kiss that man ever gave 
To woman. And this was eons and eons ago. 
The moon has cast its splendor here below 
Many and many a night since then and seen 
Many loves and wooings in its silver sheen, 
And the moon will tell you, if you ask to-day, 
That we too love in the primal way. 
That the creatures who sped o'er vale, and hill 
Are racing, pursuing, and loving still. 



VERS LIBRE 



TO 

Why do I think of you so often now? 

I did not love you. 

When we sat together under the white pine tree — 

I did not love you then. 

Why do I think now of the time you spoke to me 

And smiled into my eyes? 

I thought the sun was shining, 

But it was the glory of your smile. 

And I repeat in my heart what you said to me 

And I love the words now. 

They were only words then — now they are 

treasures. 
The wind can never blow 
The lovely gold heart of the daisy away, 
Nor can time waft away the memories of that 

day, 
And I am glad. 

There will never be a day like that again : 

The next time we meet I shall know that I love 

you 
And it will all be different — 
A beautiful, strange difference. 
251 



TO— 

I have a fear in my heart, and yet I know not 

why. 
It is a silent fear, 

But you will lay your hand on mine. 
And I shall see your eyes gazing into mine 
As summer skies contemplate still waters, 
And then I shall not be afraid. 
But shall only love — 
Love you with all the strength of my soul — 
And I will be exquisitely happy. 



A FANCY 

It was evening 

And the purple spirit of the sky 

Lighted the star lamps; 

The moth flitted silently before the moon. 

There was a long beach of glinting sand 

And it shone in the beauteous light. 

I sat on the border of the sea, 

Like a soul on the edge of the land of dreams, 

And loved. My heart throbbed in my breast 

There on the moonlit sand, where the 

Foam waves broke in passion on the shore. 

I learned how to woo a woman 

The way the waves wooed the beach 

Under the moonlight. 

The sea spoke in the voice God gave 

The winds eons ago and took from them again. 

The voice of the wind and waves is much the 

same. 
My eyes reached out over the foamy, limitless sea 
To a far bright spot. 
And a great gold star came down 
And lifted the figure of a woman from the sea, 
253 



A FANCY 

Held her against the struggling sky 

And kissed her with the passion 

Of his soul, held her and 

Kissed her again. Then he 

Let her fall back into the sea 

And her white arms were lost in the foam. 

To-morrow I shall win thee, Love of my life. 



PARTING 

I DID not love to let thee go. 

It was like going from home, 

Going to some far-off land 

That eyes have only glimpsed in dreams. 

I do not love the foreign, lonely darkness 

I feel when thou art far from me. 

The evening had a sad, impressive beauty, 

And it was a spring evening 

When the flowers bloomed in fragrance 

And the stars looked languorously down 

And the breeze took thee away. 

Something light stayed near — I felt it — 

I think it was thy spirit. 

How long will that stay? The moon 

With snowy steps is coming out of the hill, 

And there is a shadow under the cedar tree. 

I have an exquisite aimlessness in my 

Sleepy soul and only thy spirit is near me. 



255 



MAGNOLIA BLOSSOMS 

There is a sleep flower blossoming in the garden, 

And there is one blooming in my heart, 

With exquisite cream-white petals that droop 

apart 
In an adorable languorousness. 
There is a spirit hovering over the magnolia 

flowers, 
She is the spirit of dreams, 
And her soft moon-white hands 
Are pouring visions into the flowers. 
When they fall, some one will dream a lovely 

dream 
And the pink-tinted petals 
Will bear away all that might grieve the heart. 
There is nothing but love and happiness 
In the sleep blossoms of the magnolia. 



256 



CLOUDS ACROSS THE MOON 

The souls of unbloomed roses are on the breeze; 

There is a drowsy dream-substance in the eve- 
ning air; 

Only the garden fountain pierces the silence 

Like a silver lance of falling diamonds. 

My soul is the echo of the aspiring fountain, 

But my heart is asleep on the fragrant couch of 
eve. 

I am glad my heart is sleeping, for thou art afar, 

And it is anguish when thou art not here. 

There is an exquisite sadness in the tops of the 
trees. 

And the wind is shaking it out into the night; 

And so the tops of the trees are swaying tremu- 
lously. 

I see a shadow standing under the linden tree 

Reaching white, fragrant arms to the lowest 
branches. 

And singing to the thousand mysteries of the 
spirit-night. 

She is singing the song God taught the valleys 
long ago, 

257 



CLOUDS ACROSS THE MOON 

But they forgot it. It is the song of a passing 

soul. 
Half the moon is behind the cloud to-night, 
And there is a pale-blue light in the skies 
That fringes the cloud. One of the angels loved 
With mortal love to-day — that is what spreads 

a cloud 
Across the mystery of the silvered moon. 



MARRIAGE 

There is a golden circlet about thy finger 

And one about mine. 

That is all the change the world may see in our 

lives. 
I have a sacred fear within my heart, 
So many of my dreams have come to earth 
And broken as a rainbow bubble vanishes. 
I feel thee near me now — 

My lips have long sought thine in lotus dreams — 
Now they may touch and sink into the fullness of 

a kiss, 
As the gold-winged butterfly poises on a flower, 
Then in sublime contentment 
Sinks into the depths of its sun-warm chalice 
And lies insensate there. 
My longing hands do not touch darkness now, 
Not darkness, but the sublime tenderness of 

thine own. 
And only God in his greatness can know 
Of the infinite vastness of my bliss. 
259 



MARRIAGE 

The breeze is fanning the waning stars 

In an adorable tenderness. 

Thou and I alone in all the beauteous profun- 
dity. 

Two clouds scudding the silent skies and meeting 
at last, 

Two shadows blended now beneath the moon, 

Yet the world sees but a golden circlet about thy 
finger 

And one about mine. 



POT AU FEU 

There was a kitchen 

With pots and pans that shone brightly in the 

sunshine, 
And in the evenings the copper light of the fire 
Made them glow flame red. 
On winter evenings, when the snow was heaped 
White and soft outside and the wind howled 
Around the corners of the house. 
The family gathered about the kitchen stove 
And talked or read by the old lamplight 
In the center of the table with a red cloth on it. 
In its little drawer was the cook-book with recipe 

papers. 
Those were cozy winter evenings and the 
Simple talk of the peasant folk rose above 
The simmerings of the pot au feu. 
The pot au feu was upon the stove day in and 

day out, 
Year after year, always simmering 
And unconcernedly boiling. 
The bubbles rose and broke 
Like unrealized hopes dream-fed; 
261 



POT AU FEU 

All the odors of the cooking mingled in it 
And scraps from the dishes fell into its turmoil. 
Long it boiled, the fire was carefully tended 
So it did not boil over. Those were peaceful, 

happy days. 
But there came a day when strange news 
Reached the family. 

Strange news that struck terror to the heart, 
Gripped their lives and paralyzed their inten- 
tions. 
Mothers neglected their homes and wept 
Over a son or a father they were to see soon 
Departing. Daughters wept over their sweet- 
hearts 
Who would soon go from them. It was only 
A rumor then that war had been declared. 
The mother neglected the home heedlessly. 
With mind awander, she heaped fuel on the fire 
And left it to go to her room and weep 
In unconsoled despair. 
And when she came again to the kitchen she 

found 
The simmering pot aufeu had boiled over. 
Clouds of putrid smoke filled her nostrils 
And blinded her eyes. It nauseated her 
262 



POT AU FEU 

And filled her with a dizzy faintness. 

She flew to the window, 

With trembling hands tore it open, 

And little by little the smoke cleared. 

The objects in the kitchen became visible — 

The little table with the red cloth, the old oil 

lamp 
And the red geranium on the window sill. 
She went to the stove. The pot au feu was 

empty — 
Only a reddish-brown clot that was 
Almost blood clung to it ; all else was black 
Like strips of the dead of night, and the 
Stove was reeking and filthy with the 
Charred mass from the boiled-over pot. 

It will be some time before the stove 

Is returned to its former glory, 

And the family will not soon gather about it again 

Because of its putrid odor. 

It means a good deal when the pot boils over. 

Should you stop to ponder over this a moment 
On the simmering pot au feu, on the boiling tur- 
moil of the pot au feUy 
263 



POT AU FEU 

Of the charred black desolation and spoil of the 

stove, 
Mayhap it would call to your mind something 

greater. 
Nations simmer year in and year out and at last 

boil over, 
Then God only knows the charred despair 
That is left on the blackened field of war : 
God only knows the months and years — cen- 
turies of struggle 
To regain the lost glory of these nations ; 
And the families for many a year will not as- 
semble 
In love and quiet under the shelter of a nation 

at peace. 
The charred stove will not soon be clean. 
But how much longer will it take for the horrible 
Stench and stain of bestial war to be eradicated 
and obliterated? 



A RHAPSODY 

I HEARD the music of floating clouds, 

And a butterfly that had not flitted the dew from 

her wings 
Passed by. Sorrow lay like Pompeii, silent, 
Under a mindless sky. Tragedy too was buried, 
The red-lipped poppy swayed in tranquillity 
And the clovers breathed in the air. 
A bird rose from the purple grasses, 
Scattering wing diamonds to the yellow sun. 
It seemed strange to be in the world and 
Yet far away from life. The moon came up, 
And my heart turned, so did the 
Flowers; in an exquisite languorousness 
The moon passed through the temple of night. 
And there was a voice that spoke 
From out the hills — yet not the hills' voice — 
I think it was the voice of God. 



265 



UENVOI 



HEART SONGS 

The birds sing at morn 

And their songs mingle in the sounds of the day : 
The flowers breathe all their fragrance to the air 
And it vanishes beyond the blue ridges of the 

hills. 
The sea murmurs of its million mysteries, 
And the echoes beat on foreign strands, 
And life speaks to life. 
The heart sings and its echoes rise 
And flood the radiant, eager air. 
There is but one thing that shall hush 
The singing of the heart on this earth, 
And after that it shall sing elsewhere, mayhap. 



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